Herodotus mentioned it in ancient Greece as early as the 5th century, B.C.E; Ponce de Leon went looking for it in Florida in 1513; and in the twentieth century, Este Lauder made a fortune from devotes desiring it. Still, no one has discovered the Fountain of Youth.
As hard as we may reach for it, it’s always beyond our grasp: the only smidgen of youth our hands can hold are the stories of bygone glory days, the fleeting moments of the past.
Simon Holland wrote, “Adulthood is mostly just waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in.” Ouch.
A few weeks ago, Lori and I attended a pre-game athletic event for former Oklahoma University athletes, a gift to us by a friend of Lori’s sister, her friend being a former OU athlete, a member of the women’s basketball team. The University had invited former Nebraska football players, since the game that day celebrated the revival of the OU-Nebraska rivalry.
OU athletes from down the years scattered across the athletic hall that morning.
I had a friendly chat with Kenny King, whom I watched run up and down the field for OU in the late 1970s. King went on to a successful career in the NFL. And there stood the legendary Lucious Selmon, oldest of the Selmon brothers, a consensus All-American and National Defensive Player of the Year in 1973. Nebraska fullback Jeff Kinney, who ran for 174 yards and four touchdowns in the ’71 “game of the century,” was there that day as well. I have my picture with them and others.
I sent the pics to my older brother, Mark, a longtime Sooner fan.
“I remember them all but wouldn’t recognize them,” he texted back.
Indeed, we’ve all put on weight—in all the wrong places; we move slower, ache more, and complain about it more frequently than we’d like to admit. At least those guys have years of college and sometimes professional football grind to blame for their “more mature look.” Mine is due to geriatrics and nothing more. I’ve had an easy life, physically, but like Simon Holland, I too occasionally wait for the ibuprofen to kick in.
Now and then, I feel like taking a drink from that mythical Fountain of Youth but invariably suffer a hangover from it. Like I did while in Oklahoma, after a good night’s rest. The weather was warm but less humid than where I live in Kentucky. So I broke out and went running, with my earbuds in, playing The Doobie Brothers, and feeling like I was about the age I was when I first heard them singing “Black Water” and “China Grove.” The ground seemed to move effortlessly beneath my feet, just like in the old days. And it went on like that for at least 30 minutes. Glory Days.
Today, I’m walking with a limp.
“Thought you could run like you used to, again?” Lori asked with a raised eyebrow when she saw me favoring my right leg.
“Just a momentary hitch.” I didn’t want to admit The Fountain of Youth kick-back.
Springsteen sang about it in one of his best: “I think I’m going down to the well tonight/And I’m gonna drink till I get my fill.”
Maybe like Ponce before him, Springsteen was searching for a drink at the elusive Fountain of Youth. Bruce should have known it can’t get rid of a jelly tummy and will only leave you with a sore Achilles tendon, aching knee, and creaky vertebrae.
But, I’m looking for the upside here, and I think I found it in Jonathan Swift. Through most of his adult years, even his early 30s, Swift suffered from an inner ear disorder that resulted in vertigo spells and hearing loss, known today as Meniere’s disease. It was Swift who said, “No wise man ever wished to be younger.” Now, there’s a positive spin on a negative tune. Swift recognized that there is an understanding that comes only with age.
It’s a bittersweet symphony, this life, for along with the wisdom that comes with maturity, there is the wear and tear that slowly breaks down the body that once reveled in those glory days.
But alas, if it comes to one of the two, I’ll cherish the wisdom and adjust to the aging.
Just pass me the ibuprofen, please.