An essay by Frank Laubach I thought to share

[Ruby Rose]

'Tis an essay that I came across twenty years ago, that may be of interest to people here.

Life Begins at 80 by Frank Laubach​

I have good news for you. The first 80 years are the hardest. The second 80 are a succession of birthday parties.

Once you reach 80, everyone wants to carry your baggage and help you up the steps. If you forget your name or anybody’s name, or an appointment, or your own telephone number, or promise to be three places at the same time, or can’t remember how many grandchildren you have, you need only explain you are 80.

Being 80 is a lot better than being 70. At 70, people are mad at you for everything.

At 80, you have a perfect excuse, no matter what you do. If you act foolishly, it’s your second childhood. Everybody is looking for symptoms of softening of the brain.

Being 70 is no fun at all. At that age, they expect you to retire to a house in Florida and complain about your arthritis and you ask everybody to stop mumbling because you can’t understand them. (Actually, your hearing is about 50 percent gone.)

If you survive until you are 80, everybody is surprised you are still alive. They treat you with respect just for having lived so long. Actually, they seem surprised you can walk and talk sensibly.

So please, folks, try to make it to 80. It’s the best time of life. People forgive you for anything. If you ask me, life begins at 80.

--Frank Laubach

 

[Ruby Rose]

'Tis an essay that I came across twenty years ago, that may be of interest to people here.

Life Begins at 80 by Frank Laubach​

I have good news for you. The first 80 years are the hardest. The second 80 are a succession of birthday parties.

Once you reach 80, everyone wants to carry your baggage and help you up the steps. If you forget your name or anybody’s name, or an appointment, or your own telephone number, or promise to be three places at the same time, or can’t remember how many grandchildren you have, you need only explain you are 80.

Being 80 is a lot better than being 70. At 70, people are mad at you for everything.

At 80, you have a perfect excuse, no matter what you do. If you act foolishly, it’s your second childhood. Everybody is looking for symptoms of softening of the brain.

Being 70 is no fun at all. At that age, they expect you to retire to a house in Florida and complain about your arthritis and you ask everybody to stop mumbling because you can’t understand them. (Actually, your hearing is about 50 percent gone.)

If you survive until you are 80, everybody is surprised you are still alive. They treat you with respect just for having lived so long. Actually, they seem surprised you can walk and talk sensibly.

So please, folks, try to make it to 80. It’s the best time of life. People forgive you for anything. If you ask me, life begins at 80.

--Frank Laubach

Chicago columnist Laubach lived to be 85. With tongue in cheek he substantiates the premise that — at any age — our well-being is merely a state of mind.

A modern twist on old age by Dr. Brandt – “You know you are old if you are too old for early onset dementia!”

 

[FastTrax]

I like the retiring to Florida thing. You know the prophetic saying about cheering up things could get worse. Well I figured if I moved to Florida it couldn't get any worse then staying in the Rotten Apple and as luck would have it things got worse. I got stung by a scorpion.

 

[Murrmurr]

I like his take!

 

[bowmore]

Well, I joined a group called United Flying Octogenarians. I celebrated my 80th birthday by flying a WW2 P-51!
Life begins at 80

 

[Pepper]

I like the retiring to Florida thing. You know the prophetic saying about cheering up things could get worse. Well I figured if I moved to Florida it couldn't get any worse then staying in the Rotten Apple and as luck would have it things got worse. I got stung by a scorpion.

Hey. Settle down. Some of us got to live here.

 

[FastTrax]

Hey. Settle down. Some of us got to live here.

I know I know. I still miss the only place where you can get a Nathans hot dog and beer at 2:45AM in Coney Island, White Castle Burgers at 4:43AM in da Bronix, a NY Times newspaper on 40duece at 1:30AM, a Sabrett dirty water dog at 4:45PM near Madison Ave & 56th Street, lay out $20.00 bucks (NOT INCLUDING THE STRONLY SUGGESTED $6.75 TIP YET) for a Yellow Taxi ride from Broadway and 6th Street to Broadway and 7th Street, mugged in front of 1PP at high noon on Monday, shot on the Southbound IND A train anywhere between 207 in da Bronix and Far Rockaway in Queens, apply for a loan at CitiBank to get your car out of a NYC Traffic agency impound lot for a parking ticket, get arrested for felonious smoking in public even in front of your own apartment. Did I forget any notable places of interest?