More on Aging

Out of about 40 Substack posts I’ve done so far, the most popular one was on aging — written 7 months ago.:

The Final Lap, or What It's Like to Be 89

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I think about aging every day. It’s inevitable.

I’m not as strong as I used to be. I’m not as flexible. My depth perception is not as accurate (like in parking). Getting out of the car feels different. I remember less and less…

Here are some things I’ve either discovered or figured out since that last post:

"This is the first time I’ve ever been old.”

So said Mary Maxwell, 72 years old, starting out her talk at an Omaha senior facilities dinner:

“The thing about old age is that you don’t get a chance to practice. It just sort of crept up on me…”

The audience loved it. So did I.

Getting old is a new experience for us.

Reconsidering previous concepts

I learned an important thing after selling 160,000 copies of Domebook 2, and then realizing that domes didn’t work as homes. I had to admit that I was wrong in front of maybe 1/4 million people.

Doing that opened up the door to me as I’ve gone through life: owning up to mistakes — and then starting over.

As I get older, I’m looking back at some of my concepts and changing my mind occasionally:

Domes

In my August trip to Burning Man, There were dozens of geodesic domes* — being put to good uses.

Then in my September trip to Crestone, Colorado, and the Southwest, I saw a bunch of domes that I liked. For example, this dome greenhouse:

Dawer Data, the gardener who tends the plants. This is on the grounds of the Joyful Journey hot springs resort north of Crestone, Colorado. Great use of a dome!

So I’m softening my unrelenting criticism of domes. I still think they are a bad shape for homes (see: https://www.shelterpub.com/domes#domes-vs-rectangles), but they’re useful in many other ways.

*What no one at Burning Man realizes is that the math (chord factors) plus construction method (electrical conduit compressed at ends , then bolted together) of all the domes came from Domebook 2, published 53 years ago.

The Grateful Dead

I always found their singing weak, the noodling boring. This seemed like blasphemy from a San Francisco boy, but there was just so much other music I’d rather be listening to. My running joke: "What do Deadheads say when they run out of drugs?”

"This music sucks.”

HOWEVER, a year or so ago, I heard a Bolinas Dead tribute band and they were good! Then a month or so ago, I went to Peri’s in Fairfax (the little town with the big selection of live music) and heard a Dead band organized by drummer Dan Luehring that was great! (Deadhead alert: They play there each Wednesday night.)

So I changed my mind about the Dead; I guess I’m more in tune with their spirit these days than I was with the Full Monty back then.

At this stage in life, I’m looking back and re-analyzing a lot of concepts. It feels comfortable somehow, changing my mind. “Hey, that’s what I thought before, well this is what I think now.”

Span of Time

Another thing about aging that’s struck me is that our time span — the length — is useful, precious — the more so the older we get.

I remember gas at 33 cents a gallon, San Francisco as a shipping port, milk delivered in glass bottles to the doorstep, surfing on uncrowded waves, the GI bill. No TV, just the radio…

That span from the ‘40s up until now is rich in contrast — and context. It’s fascinating to have these reference points.

Tony Serra at his 90th birthday party in December. He’s four months older than me; we’ve known each other for over 70 years. Left-right: Miya. Lloyd, Shelter, Tony, Wonder, Paige, Ivory. Master chef Adrian took the photo.

Fruit tart birthday cake from The Farm Bakery in Aptos (near Santa Cruz), brought by Miya. Boy, was it good! Plus an art work in itself.

“Do not go gentle into that good night…”

The much-beloved and often-quoted poem by Dylan Thomas — where he advises resisting death at all costs — “Rage, rage against the dying of the light…” — seems completely wrong to me.

Death is part of life; and it comes for all of us eventually. It should be peaceful, comfortable, and with love and harmony.

Fighting it, especially with fear, anxiety and medical intervention, is the last thing I want to do.

I remember reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead back in the’ 60s — it was about preparing for a peaceful death — with tranquility and acceptance.

Zhi-Khro mandala, from The Tibetan Book of the Dead

Hello darkness, my old friend…