No plans to ace the longevity test
By FRANK KAISER
Published April 26, 2005
My longevity has never interested me.
Like you, at age 20 I thought I would live forever. At 50, I marveled that I was still alive. And at 65 it dawned on me that had I known I was going to live so long, I'd have taken better care of myself.
My Aunt Marion was right: Careless conduct in your 20s and 30s boomerangs years later in the form of shortness of breath, weak knees, painful arthritis, excess stomach acid and high pharmaceutical bills.
If I'd only listened.
But there was about as much chance of my learning from adult advice as Charlie Brown's suddenly realizing that Lucy was always going to pull the football at the last second.
I'm pretty much a day-at-a-timer, a fiddling grasshopper living in a world of hardworking ants.
Or I was. Then a reader put me on to a site called "The Longevity Game."
Just answer 12 lifestyle questions: how you drive, if you smoke, drink or drug, how you allow exercise and stress into your life and voila - (in type that might as well be etched in stone) - is the age at which you'll die.
They call it "Your Longevity Age," but there's no getting around the croak factor.
My Longevity Age is 88.
Eighty-eight? My God, I've got 19 years to live.
My first thought?
This is more information than I ever wanted. Life-changing information that could transform me into a planner-aheader constantly mumbling: "Today is yesterday's tomorrow."
Would this mean no more skydives from 15,000 feet? No more climbing glaciers in search of that perfect photograph? If I'm to live my life to its potential, I can't take chances anymore, can I?
No more six-packs of French crullers from Dunkin' Donuts, or late-night strawberry shortcake, or the occasional bacon double-cheeseburger from McDonald's.
Hmmm, once I eliminate what few vices I still enjoy, won't those 19 years seem more like 119?
For the first time, I pondered The Meaning of Life, quality vs. quantity and the possibility of God's forgiveness for small but irreversible transgressions.
What about my car?
I have a 1994 Chevy convertible. Since I can't afford another, will it last another 19 years?
And what about Carolyn?
I persuaded her to take the test.
She, too, will live to 88. But she's five years younger. Which means once I get my ticket punched, I'll probably end up hanging from her left ear as a diamond made from my cremation ashes. She'll end up remarrying, this time to some rich guy.
Why should she have all the fun? Is that fair?
Of course, if it's true that couples tend to look more alike as they age, you could very well see us still in 2024, two Yoda lookalikes, hand in hand in some fetid South Florida bingo parlor. I'll be the one with no hair - except, of course, from my ears and nose. Knowing my luck, it'll grow just short of a combover.
Ain't aging wonderful?
Not that I don't look forward to growing antique with the old girl. As long as she continues to make me laugh, I'm in for the duration. Of course, the question has always been: Is she?
Actually, I've decided not to give the test too much credence. And over the years I've grown quite content with my vices. Besides, living life to its potential doesn't necessarily mean longevity. Have you ever known a person who reached 114 to be remarkable for anything else?
So don't look for me to be giving up my fiddle any time soon, no matter the reward in longevity.
The good thing about living a day at a time is that none of the rest matters. Another day, another year, another decade, whatever; it's just fine with me.
In celebration of my newfound wisdom and freedom, tonight I'll add an extra dab of whipped cream to my strawberry shortcake.
Won't you to join me?
- Frank Kaiser is a nationally syndicated columnist who lives in Clearwater. His Web site, www.suddenlysenior.com includes nostalgia, trivia, senior humor and 111 Best Senior Links. Write Frank c/o Seniority, the St. Petersburg Times, P.O. Box 1121, St. Petersburg, FL 33731, or e-mail features@sptimes.com
ON THE WEBTake the longevity test at www.nmfn.com/tnetwork/longevity_game_popup.html