By Peggy McManus
January 2025
Last month I briefly mentioned the time I asked my grandma what it felt like to be old. I was eight years old at the time and we were several hours into another endless Christmas dinner when I broached the subject.
“Well, Piggly,” Grandma said solemnly, “when you’re old your body starts to fall apart, but in your mind you still feel like a 25 year old.”
Her answer shocked me. The idea of feeling young, but actually being old, terrified me.
“Does it hurt?” I finally asked.
“Oh yes, it definitely hurts,” she said. “Getting old isn’t for sissies, that’s for sure.”
A few hours later Grandma excused herself and headed off to bed. She usually stayed the night with us on holiday visits to avoid making the long drive back to Idaho twice in one day.
I heard her rustling around in the bathroom and a short time later, the guest bedroom door softly closed. For the record, the guest bedroom was my bedroom. I slept on the living room couch whenever Grandma stayed over.
“Okay, Piggly, it’s time for you to get ready for bed, too,” Mom said, shooing me toward the bathroom to brush my teeth.
I flipped on the light switch. It took a few seconds for my mind to process the gnarly scene before me, and then I started to scream. In a flash, both Mom and Dad were at the bathroom door looking panicked and confused.
“What’s wrong?” Dad demanded. “What are you screaming about?”
I pointed a shaky finger at the sink.
Two glasses of water sat on the counter. The first held a full set of teeth. The second, an eyeball.
“I knew Grandma was falling apart,” I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks. “But I didn’t think it was this bad!”
“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Mom sighed, grabbing my toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste and ushering me out of the room. “Go brush your teeth in the kitchen and be thankful you still have all your own body parts.”
The next morning Grandma’s eye and teeth were back in her head. When I questioned my older sisters about this, they said that her eye and teeth were fake and that Grandma had lost her real ones due to the ravages of old age. They didn’t seem too traumatized about it so I decided to put the whole ghastly experience out of my mind.
A few weeks later, I was at my friend Margie’s house. Her grandparents were visiting from Montana and were sitting on the couch sipping tea and chatting with Margie’s parents when we walked in.
“These are my grandparents, Buck and Tilly,” Margie said, and I flashed them a brief smile, anxious to be done with formalities and off with Margie to her bedroom to play cards and nibble on the penny candy we’d just bought at the neighborhood five and dime.
“What are you girls up to today?” Grandma Tilly asked.
“They’s gonna be washin’ dishes if they don’t find something to do with themselves soon,” Margie’s mom answered for us.
Grandma Tilly laughed. It was a melodious sound and so friendly that I paused to study her more carefully. She was quite beautiful in a flowing skirt and blue cashmere sweater that matched her eyes. At least Margie’s grandma isn’t falling apart, I thought.
Then I saw it. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it sooner but now I couldn’t unsee it. Only one of Grandma Tilly’s legs emerged from the bottom of her skirt. The other was propped up on the couch next to her…still wearing a shoe.
“Your leg fell off!” I screamed at Grandma Tilly, pointing in horror at her unattached leg.
Margie grabbed my arm and whisked me off to her room. “Stop whimpering and let me explain,” She said. “Grandma lost her leg to cancer a few years back. The leg on the couch is a fake one, but it’s really uncomfortable for her to wear so she takes it off whenever she can."
“That’s terrible,” I croaked.
“Yup,” Margie said quietly. I could see she was upset that her grandma was falling apart, and probably with me for making a scene about it.
After that, I had a full-blown fear of getting old and losing body parts. I started scrutinizing every old person I came across. All of them had lost something, even if it was just their hair. Even the parts they retained were in obvious decline. They wore glasses and hearing aids, used walkers and canes, and, although they still had their skin, it was wrinkled and dull.
The one thing that consoled me was that I was young and shouldn’t be falling apart anytime soon. But what about my parents?! They could fall apart at any time! They were already wearing glasses and seemed to have more and more gray hair every day!
Their health became my greatest worry, especially when Dad took off on one of his outdoor adventures.
“Don’t lose any body parts out there,” I’d say as he headed off on his latest excursion.
“I’ll definitely try not to,” he’d reply with a wink.
Somewhere along the line I overcame my fear of aging and began to appreciate old people, even those who were clearly falling apart. I admired their strength, their courage, and their resilience. I vowed to be just like them when I got old.
Decades passed and I did what I could to retain my body parts. Eventually though, I too, began to fall apart. I am now short a couple non-essential organs, wear glasses, and have undergone an array of barbaric dental procedures in order to keep my teeth. On top of that, my hair is thinner, my skin is thinner — basically everything is thinner except my waistline.
Still, I’m thankful for what I have. I’m grateful that, like my grandma, I am still a 25-year-old in my mind. You’re as young as you think you are, right? For me, the most important thing is to keep your sense of humor. After all, laughter is the best medicine.
Happy New Year!
McManus Quote of the Month
Most of my exercise has come from strenuously avoiding all forms of physical fitness.
Recipe of the Month
After the holidays, we like to simplify our meals, and there's nothing like a hearty bowl of homemade soup to warm you up on cold winter days. Click here for Bun's Hamburger Soup Recipe. Hint - Instead of hot water and bouillon cubes, I use two store-bought cartons of beef stock.
From the McManus Archives
With so much change happening in the world these days, this seemed to be a fitting essay to revisit for the start of a new year and a new era:
The Economy and the Need for a Chain Saw, By Pat McManus January 2008