Diminishment? No! Dystopian Reflection

Diminishment? No! Dystopian Reflection
by Mary DeCock, BVM

I tried but I don't know how to write an article on ‘diminishment,' even when I switch gears and call it ‘old age'—which I prefer. I did a Google search on diminishment and it listed 1901 articles covering every sense of meaning possible for the word! So I decided to look for examples. Here is my journey:

I pondered Julia Child as she switched from The Joy of Cooking to the ‘joys of aging.' She was comparing notes with emerging chefs on TV well into her late 80s and early 90s. She seemed to worry not one whit about her obvious physical diminishment as the culinary world watched her transfer her prestige to a new generation of gourmet cooks.

I remembered the seemingly gentle surrender of Ronald Reagan to Nancy 's vigilant care while she made her own failed attempts to cover up his memory loss. In his own way he was sort of a smiling poster boy for Alzheimer's victims. And frail Nancy never looked stronger than in helping him cope.

I thought of the sheer grit of John Paul II as he blessed the world from his window until his hands wouldn't execute the sign of the cross. Now we know he was determined to stay with his job as long as he could and become a living lesson to the world.

Then I accidentally discovered a spoof I wrote some 25 years ago for a Faculty Association meeting at Mundelein . It puts a positive spin on diminishment. It still reflects my thoughts about the joys of aging.

A Dystopian Reflection

Alice: March Hare! March Hare! I'm in mortal trouble. Madd Hatter gave me the wrong pill. I asked to become a butterfly, but I'm turning into an old woman instead.

Hare: Don't worry, Alice . You're in the right place. You've landed in Elderland. I've got everything you'll ever want right here to help you. Here. Take these coupons. They cover everything you'll need to survive—and they're all paid for by Medicare. We've got nurses and doctors and drugstores and banks—a whole army of them organized to serve you—every need you've got now and some you don't even know you're going to have.

Alice : But I don't like armies of anything. And these tickets—they're horrible. A day care center! A nursing home! A hospital! A funeral parlor! I'm not sick and I certainly don't intend to die. I'm just OLD—and prematurely old at that.

Hare: Don't worry. You'll soon be able to use them. That's what aging is all about. Stomachs that can't handle pork chops. Joints that creak when you climb the stairs. Short-circuited brains that scramble your data bank. Wrinkles that trap the soap when you wash your face—if you can reach it.

Alice: You're as mad as the Hatter. Aging isn't about getting sick. It's about getting old and I knew all about old people before I went to kindergarten.

Take my Aunt Agnes. She was fat; she made cookies, and she taught me to cut pieces of cloth around a pattern so I could help her make quilts. She was kind and I liked her.

I loved Uncle Tom best of all. We connived behind my mother's back. He taught me how to make beer and trap potato bugs in a can and shift the gears in his Model T. When he got really old he had a tube in his throat to help him breathe; he called it Whistle, just like he called me Skeezix.

Hare: But times have changed. The world moves faster now. Houses are smaller and people are busier. You'll like the Age-ean Manor. The dentist comes every week and the beauty lady washes your hair in bed—you don't even need to get up in morning.

Alice: How absolutely awful . Who wants their teeth cleaned that often? My grandma had false teeth and she got along fine. If she had wrinkles, I didn't notice it. But I do remember her eyes; when she looked at you she knew what you were thinking. There's something dreadfully wrong with your Elderland. You're just programming folk for obsolescence.

Hare: You sound convincing. But face it. Moths become butterflies and maidens turn into crones.

Alice: And butterflies are beautiful. And so are crones. We've got to do something. Let's recycle these coupons. We can make them into sponsor sheets for a new Elder-pack. We'll use the day care center for a Crone-Wizard Meeting House. We'll organize a Witness Watch to monitor Baxter Labs and Merck and all the pill-makers until they guarantee safe, generic drugs. And we'll go after the AMA-nursing home coalition for violating the public trust if they don't perform well.

Hare: Alice , you're awe-some. Why don't we enlist Madd Hatter to broadcast our new message: aging isn't a disease—it's part of life and we want to keep its management in our own hands as long as we can!

Alice: Good thinking, March Hare. And let's make my Grandma Scallan our model and Uncle Johnny our mascot. We'll chase the collaborators in diminishment with our canes and scare hell out of the patriarchs who go along with them.

Hare: And down with all forms of Crone's disease. Hurray!

About the author: Mary DeCock, BVM (Donatus) is professor emerita of Mundelein College, Chicago.