Aging is Not a Process, It's a Series of Sudden Recognitions

Dear Partners in Aging,

I will confess I have never been this old before; I have little experience at being 60. Still, just two weeks into the project, I’ve noticed some changes.

I mused a few years back that over 50 years of wearing socks resulted in a case of “old man feet” where I was no longer able to grow hair on my ankles. That condition has not changed as I am still wearing socks; but now, further down this aging body journey, I’ve noticed new signals of deterioration.

Over thirty years ago, I remember getting on the elevator at the University of Chicago Divinity School with my regular breakfast purchased at the basement coffee shop. Also on the elevator was Don Browning, Professor of Practical Theology. He noted my breakfast choice, an extra-large black coffee and three doughnuts. The professor commented that a time would come when my body would not metabolize that much sugar, carbs and fat. Now I am about the same age as Don Browning was on that encounter in the elevator. I had no idea just how practical his theology was.

I’ve been doing a lot of video recording for worship services, and have heard that the camera puts on ten pounds. I always thought that was the result of optics and framing, but, stepping on the scale the other morning, I can affirm that it's absolutely true! It’s not optics but measurable physics. I’m thinking of going back to audio only.

I know many who are reading this are dismissing me as a novice in this experience of aging; some of you have been adjusting to being 60 for nearly three decades, but as I noted, I’m new at this, so indulge my sense of surprise. I find myself lingering over the properties of a good cardboard box. It takes a courageous act of the will to recycle it rather than add it to the collection in the basement, especially if it has a good flapped attached lid. I’m also rinsing out containers thinking they would make good change jars or holders for nuts and bolts in the garage. I think it’s a sign of aging when you have more containers at the ready than things to contain.

I also find myself learning things that I’m pretty sure someone was trying to explain to me years ago. I wish I could do college all over again now that I have some sense about what my instructors were trying to teach. At the same time, I find myself offering advice, stories and observations just because I labor under the delusion that people care. As a pastor I’ve done this for years—it’s what pastors do; but now I’m looking old enough that folks humor me and feign interest while checking the time on their phones. I’ve never had eyebrows, so at least they’re not getting all ‘Oscar the Grouch’ wiry, but I’m painfully aware how that observation all by itself makes me sound old.

Technology does not yet frighten me. Fortunately, I’ve remained sufficiently detached from breakthroughs that I remain comfortably ill-informed about how little I know. I’m also just self-aware enough to not reminisce out loud about my bygone skills as a COBOL programmer. Give me time; that too will change.

I won’t even start my rant about wasteful unopenable packaging (only forgivable if there is a good box involved), ridiculously small print and people who mumble. I’m just young enough to believe I have years ahead of me to powerfully refine those complaints.

I’m also getting sentimental. So when staff and members threw me a safe-distanced 60th birthday party complete with a car parade expressing the love and support of our congregation, I was happy to be old enough to choke up and release a few tears of joy. I am also old enough to reflect on how much time, energy and goodwill went into the occasion. That’s the upside of aging—I find myself appreciating the kindness of others more each day. And so, joyful for the goodness you expressed to me and really excited about a little jar I found (perfect for holding ¾-inch finishing nails), I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor

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Dear Sitters:

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Dear Pledging Patriots:

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Dear Ones:

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Dear Past Pandemic Prospectors,

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Dear God Lovers:

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