“Youth is wasted on the young.”
This quote is most frequently attributed to George Bernard Shaw (occasionally to Oscar Wilde). Robert Louis Stevenson reportedly said, “If youth only knew and age only could.”
The essential message is: The beauty and vitality of youth are insufficiently appreciated by the young and, by the time we’re old enough to know the wonder of such things, we no longer have them.
I’m living a different adage: “Money is wasted on the aging.”
As I am still a year from “retirement,” I suppose “aging” is a bit too much concession to mother time. I’m not quite ready for the rocking chair, but I’m certainly closer to that bookend of my shelf life.
Like some older folks, my wife and I were lucky enough to have been gainfully employed for many years at decent salaries. As a result, our Social Security will be on the higher side and my work has allowed accumulation of some retirement benefits. We’re not wealthy, but recognize our relative privilege.
In the last few decades, unlike the earlier years of our long life together, we have not had to fret over unpaid bills or worry about making it to the end of the month. It is a comforting feeling. We’ve been able to help family members, travel to see them and go out to dinner whenever we get the urge. Unlike most of our years together, we now have a little pool of money that we could enjoy in many ways, should we wish. Here’s the rub: We don’t wish.
I once owned a small sailboat and dreamed of a bigger boat that could tame the mighty seas and host a family gathering. Now I could probably buy a 30-footer, but I’m perfectly happy with my kayak. We have friends over the years who have taken glamorous cruises or exotic trips to faraway places. Now we could, but I can’t imagine a day more enjoyable than to ride my mountain bike and then sit on the deck hearing the loons.
When we drove a lousy Plymouth Horizon with contact paper “wood” paneling that broke down regularly, I thought how nice it would be to buy a shiny, new, more dependable and luxurious car. Now I suppose we could buy a shiny, new, more luxurious car, but I’m happier calculating now many more miles we can get out of our aging Subaru and our 1998 VW.
There was a time that buying a new suit at full retail would have been exciting. I now take real pleasure in thinking I may never buy another item of clothing in my life. I have a pair of 15-year-old $9 shoes my family hates, and I want to be buried in them. I could buy the occasional $80 bottle of wine, but I can’t really tell much difference between that and columnist Warren Johnston’s good “under $10” suggestions. My road bike is 24 years old. I could afford the $3,000, feather light, aerodynamic, carbon fiber machine I dreamed of when I raced. Now I don’t see any reason to do more than oil the chain and hope it lasts until I can’t pedal anymore.
We’ve never been very interested in pretense or conspicuous consumption, but most every thing I can think of that we might have once longed for, we no longer care for. Money is indeed wasted on the aging.
Of course the money, what there is of it, won’t be just sitting there. We may eschew luxury cars, fancy vacations, expensive clothes, big sailboats and fine Napa Cabs, but there’s the reality of aging. Co-pays for colonoscopies, the dental implant that will help me chew better on the right side, fixing or replacing the boiler, expensive prescription drugs, repointing the chimney, supplemental Medicare insurance . . . if you’re “aging,” you could add to the list.
The Rolling Stones sang, “You can’t always get what you want.” True enough. Wait long enough and you won’t want it anyway. I’ll settle for having what we need. Life is good.
Steve Nelson lives in Sharon and New York City, where he is the head of the Calhoun School, a private school. He can be reached at steve.nelson@calhoun.org.