The seventh Tuesday

We talk about the fear of aging.

Morrie lost his battle. Someone was now wiping his behind.

He faced this with typically brave acceptance. No longer able to reach behind him when he used the commode, he informed Connie of his latest limitation.

Would you be embarrassed to do it for me?

I found it typical that he asked her first.

I'm an independent person, so my inclination was to fight all of this.

But then I figured, Forget what the culture says. I have ignored the culture much of my life. I am not going to be ashamed. What's the big deal?

brow

I revel in it. I close my eyes and soak it up.

We all yearn in some way to return to those days when we were completely taken care of--- unconditional love, unconditional attention. Most of us didn't get enough.

I had counted the billboards that featured young and beautiful people.

a sultry-looking teenager with her jeans unsnapped

in a black velet dress

tuxedo

snuggling a glass of scotch

I tried desperately to stay on top of it.

I was getting too close to forty and, therefore, professional oblivion.

Morrie had aging in better perspective.

All this emphasis on youth --- I don't buy it.

I know what a misery being young can be, so don't tell me it's so great.

Because if you've found meaning in your life, you don't want to go back. You want to go forward. You want to see more, do more. You can't wait until sixty-five.

Remember what I said about detachment? Let it go. That's envy, I'm going to separate from it now. And walk away.

ridicoulously 

How do you keep from envying . . .

The issue is to accept who you are and revel in that.

watch his breath scatter into the air

How can I be envious of where you are --- when I've been there myself?