By Steve Moran

If you are lucky, one day you too will grow old. I know it’s obvious I am telling you something you already know … but no one told me, and no one talks about how weird it is.

The World Sees You Differently (and rightly so, mostly)

Some examples …

• Recently at CES in Las Vegas, I rode the conference bus from one venue to another. I was the last one on the bus that was “standing room only.” Immediately after boarding, several younger folks jumped out of their seats to allow the old guy to sit.
• Leaving Las Vegas, when I got to my departure gate, there was a guy sitting in the designated handicapped seats, and he immediately jumped up, offering me his (no judgment about him sitting there since there were lots of empty seats). It was a very kind gesture.
• As I walked the show, I was not as interesting to people because of my age, even in the age-tech area. Not exactly discrimination — it was simply that I looked different from them, different than the people they primarily interact with.
• And embarrassingly, I am not immune to this thinking. I did an interview with a guy who has some really interesting technology and who is older than I am (I think, since I didn’t ask). I realized that my first impression reaction carried its own set of prejudices.

The Differences are Real

It is easy to pretend that older people are just like younger people, but in aging bodies. Something many anti-ageism crusaders want you to believe. It is simply not true. As we age, we change; we are different, and not in trivial ways:

• I once loved sitting on the floor; no more. I had lunch at CES. There was no place to sit except on the floor. I made it work, but it was uncomfortable. Getting up was awkward and ugly.
• There are things I once loved doing that I am blasé about, amusement park rides being a good example.
• I listen to conversations about relationships, families, and kids, and think, “Been there, done that.” I was once there, but no more.
  
• I used to cringe with embarrassment at how older people spend so much time talking about frailties, medical conditions, treatments, and doctors’ appointments. Now I find myself doing that exact thing with my friends.
• With the sale of Foresight to ProCareHR, I have some insight and input about growth plans and find myself thinking … I would love to tackle that, or I want to get involved. 
  
  I then realize my time is coming to an end. One day, not that far in the future, I will attend my last conference, write my last blog, contribute one last idea. (That sounds more maudlin than I intend it to be. I still have some big future plans and dreams, and I still have a few more years.) But the reality is that I will not be a part of Procare or Foresight in 5 or 10 years. 

The Gift of Perspective

I am not offended or upset. I don’t feel discriminated against or picked on. I am profoundly grateful that I am in good health and that I am still contributing and making a difference. The alternatives are much worse.

Each day I wake up excited about the possibilities. I have a much healthier outlook on life. My life is as complex as it has ever been, but it is a complexity that is mostly of my own making. Much of the complexity comes from decisions I made, and I own it all.

The Last Day

And one day … I will take my last breath, and when that happens, I will know …

• In at least a small way, I made the world better.
• I loved and was loved.

The last words I want to breathe are these:

To my family: “I love you with my entire heart.”

To the world: “What an amazing ride.”