The Foothills of Old Age

In an article about their new documentary “Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, a Journey, a Song” directors Dan Geller and Danya Goldfine talked about Cohen’s “droll, dry wit,” offering an example that resonated with my stage of life. According to Cohen, “70 is indisputably not youth. It’s not extreme old age, but it’s the foothills of old age.” 

So here I am, at the foothills of old age. My image of foothills is one of gradual and fairly easy slopes, but it is important to remember that they are plural and always require climbing. I remember my frustration during a trip in the Rockies. Every time we reached the top of one hill, there was another hill. A perfect metaphor for life.

“Easy” is not how I would describe my journey to get to the foothills. There were times I had to claw my way up each tenuous step, like a mountaineer with an ax. The challenges of single parenthood and a demanding career often felt insurmountable.

But I have arrived, physically somewhat the worse for wear, but hopefully girded for the next trek with the wisdom I have accumulated. What I lack in strength I hope I can make for with strategy. I learned one valuable lesson on an Outward Bound trip. “It’s OK to be out of breath,” said my instructor. “You don’t need to stop.” Perseverance is critical.

Mountains are steep and difficult. I have never had any interest in mountain climbing or understood its attraction. I am happy to look with awe from a distance. However, the last mountain, the mountain of old age, stands before me. It is one I am determined to tackle.