February 10, 2008

Find same happiness in old age that you did in youth

By Gene Krider

On TV, Maurice Chevalier was singing a really preposterous song from the musical “Gigi” while I was reading “I Am So Happy I’m Not Young Any More.” I got up, turned the TV off and opened a computer file of the Metropolitan Opera live broadcast to try to get my mind off that song. Even “Die Walkurie” was not up to it.

The mere idea that I should be happy to be old seemed ludicrous. After all, I write this column mostly about my wonderful younger days: all the buildings I designed in my profession as an architect; all the music, art and drama I produced in my many avocations; and the happy care-free days I spent in school with my friends and in my homework shop. I walked or rode my bicycle to work and drove a fine luxurious four-door convertible everywhere else for 33 years. I had a wonderful wife, and we raised four great, talented kids. I lived in a large house in the middle of town that from the back was like being in the country. I was very young in those days and happy about it.

In my happy, old age, I am unable to walk down the steps to my patio and terrace; I cannot walk downtown or to the library; I have no convertible, no wife; and the only way I can read this stupid computer screen is to zoom it up 160 times normal size. So should I be happy not to be young anymore? I confess I do not like Maurice Chevalier singing anything, but that song takes the cake which I should not eat in my happy old age.

Being young was wonderful. Some cynic like George Bernard Shaw said that youth was wasted on the young because they did not know how to use it. I do not think my youth was wasted on only frivolous pursuits. Yes, I enjoyed the Jack Benny radio program with extras like Edgar Bergen and Victor Borge. One night, Benny announced that next they were going to listen to Borger and good music. Charlie McCarthy said, “Make up your mind,” an idea prevalent then as now.

There was not much classical music on radio or TV. I listened to live broadcasts of the New York Philharmonic Symphony, the Metropolitan Opera and a string of programs on Monday nights,
plus the few recordings I could afford.

I remember the night Ezio Pinza, a cross-over opera singer who was singing on Broadway in “South Pacific,” forgot the words to “Some Enchanted Evening.” The Bell Telephone Orchestra just continued playing until the end, but you could hear some laughter from the audience. I heard it live in my bedroom.

As I write this on my laptop computer, it is beginning to remind me that this frustrating old age does have its advantages. If I made a mistake writing on my typewriter, I had to get out the eraser or “White Out” and type over it. If it was something very important, the whole page had to be retyped. Also, I can move words, phrases or whole sentences around or eliminate anything and the printed page is perfect.

Without this computer, I would not be writing this column.

In the musical comedy “Camelot,” Arthur is trying to explain how his tutor Merlin lives backward: “He does not age, he youthens.”

I think I will try that, if not with my body, at least with my mind.