What To Expect
by Bernard Greenwald

I recently celebrated my 65th birthday and, having taken stock of my physical condition, thought it might be useful to share some of the vicissitudes of aging with my readers. While it may be an instructive hint at what to expect, younger readers will simply not believe these things could ever happen to them, and will probably want to turn the page. The disparity of our ages and personal esthetics are also indicated to them by the absence of any tattoos, piercings or other artificial body decorations on the accompanying chart; all my corporeal embellishments are the natural result of the passage of time,. Organic body art if you will.

Older readers will probably find the following obvious, redundant and an unpleasant reminder of things better ignored. However, I will persevere for those who either fall between these groups or who may benefit from commiseration. The discussion will be framed by the scientific illustration provided, numbered for easy identification and starting from the bottom up.

1. Toenails. My toenails have recently begun to ignore any standard guidelines for thickness, color and resiliency, and in order to be pared require heavy duty industrial equipment, not unlike the Jaws of Life device used to cut automobile accident victims from crushed vehicles. On a more positive note, they have acquired a ribbed texture not unlike petrified wood, which makes their trimmings useful for the discussion of fossilized objects during Show and Tell sessions in middle school science classes.

2. Ankles. The skin over the backs of my ankles has been replaced with some sort of Samurai armorer's abrasive material, suitable for honing and polishing the steel blades of swords or automobile refinishing. It can be modified occasionally with the use of a pumice stone in the shower, permitting me to don socks without shredding them... if I could reach my ankles.

3. Veins. The veins in my legs are no longer content to remain modestly encased by flesh, but have decided to assert their place in the world by becoming fully visible through the surface of my skin in a sort of lapis lazuli or cobalt blue configuration. Since they confusingly evoke Nijinsky's famous serpent costume in his role in a Diaghilev piece with the Ballets Russes, I no longer wear shorts in public so as not to disappoint those who expect me to perform sinuous, balletic movments.

4. Knees. My knees have developed a very nice capacity for negotiation with my hips. When I embark on the daily walk demanded of me by Dr. De Santis, they never hog their pain-producing potential but are willing to share it on an equitable basis with both of my hips, sometimes alternating the ache, sometimes expressing it simultaneously. While I do not welcome the pain, it is nice to know that I have developed a capacity for physical coordination I never had as an athlete.

5. Stomach and digestive tract. Sorry Senator, these can only be discussed in closed conference.

6. Upper Torso. There are certain mysterious, strap-like structures inside my chest and back whose purpose, presumably, is to hold everything together when I cough, breathe, ingest food, sneeze etc. Not to be confused with muscle, which has always been in short supply on my body, they are probably more like the heavy-duty suspenders worn by firemen and some construction workers, or the Mt. Rushmore-scale bra straps my mother used to sport when in déshabille around the house during my childhood. Their job now is to monitor my movements, like trade union officials, ensuring that I do not overindulge in work or recreational activity. If I work too much on my paintings, leaning over a detailed panel, or attempt to ride my Motobecane bicycle, they suddenly contract, commencing severe back pain and forcing several days of rest. It's a little like having my Mom urge moderation in all things.

7. And, finally, my skin. Alas, it no longer clings to my flesh in that banal way it did years ago. Fortunately for me, a lover of exotic Asian textiles, it has now taken on the gorgeous, draped look of crêpe de Chine or the diaphanous togas so beautifully revealing the seated forms of Pallas Athena and Aphrodite in the ancient sculpted Elgin marbles once looted from the Parthenon in Athens. And my close friend and contemporary, Doug, who is my avant-garde in so many enterprises, now has brown, paisley-like spots on his hands and forearms—a promise that as I come more and more to resemble an ancient sculpture, I can expect to become a polychrome one as well.

8. Cranial hair. This topic was covered by me in the last issue of this journal so I will not belabor it further here. Suffice to say that many folks in my age bracket, male and female, who were frustrated during the hippy uprisings of our salad years by the fashion demands of those times, can now sprout all sorts of luxurious facial hair.

So you see, every stage of life offers its rewards.