I Don't Wanna Grow Up
Every year at Christmas, the Toys R Us marketing crew re-releases their iconic "I don't wanna grow up; I'm a Toys R Us kid" commercial, just in time for all the holiday shopping. I can remember when the original commercial came out with its catchy lyrics, and I suppose that's part of the marketing campaign. Most people my age have small children of their own now to shop for.
The concept of eternal youth is one that has been around for centuries, probably even longer than that. At some point, even Adam and Eve realized they had wrinkles, gray hair, and age spots. The futile search for youth spurred explorers like Ponce De Leon to the New World, to Florida specifically (where apparently the elderly are still searching). The British author JM Barrie captured the hearts of young and old alike with his classic tale of Peter Pan who gave up the reality of love and family to remain young forever in a fantasy world.
I've been thinking about this a little more in the past few weeks, because my grandmother has developed a habit of warning me, "When you're 80 years old," with a string of rotating predictions, none of which are enjoyable to contemplate. According to her, I'll be bald, deaf, riddled with arthritis, forgetful, and grouchy--well, that last one might just be her. Every time she starts her warning phrase, I have the overwhelming urge to deny any of that will ever happen to me. Sometimes I argue with her, "When I'm 80, I'll buy hearing aids. I'll use the medicine the doctor gives me. I won't annoy my grandchildren with all my bellyaching!"
But, old age has curses beyond just physical ailments. My grandmother has outlived her parents, her husband, and all but one sister, and Christmas often brings up a painful melancholy. When I drive her around town doing errands on Friday mornings, she talks about how she sits in her empty house making lists of all the dead people she remembers this Christmas. She bemoans how bad the holidays will be now that all of these people have gone, without seeming to appreciate her daughter, grandchildren, or the three great-grandchildren that have brought so much joy to the rest of us.
I try to sympathize with her lonely situation, but I can't help but think if this is the "merry" Christmas that she spreads to everyone else, I don't want to get any older.
The concept of eternal youth is one that has been around for centuries, probably even longer than that. At some point, even Adam and Eve realized they had wrinkles, gray hair, and age spots. The futile search for youth spurred explorers like Ponce De Leon to the New World, to Florida specifically (where apparently the elderly are still searching). The British author JM Barrie captured the hearts of young and old alike with his classic tale of Peter Pan who gave up the reality of love and family to remain young forever in a fantasy world.
I've been thinking about this a little more in the past few weeks, because my grandmother has developed a habit of warning me, "When you're 80 years old," with a string of rotating predictions, none of which are enjoyable to contemplate. According to her, I'll be bald, deaf, riddled with arthritis, forgetful, and grouchy--well, that last one might just be her. Every time she starts her warning phrase, I have the overwhelming urge to deny any of that will ever happen to me. Sometimes I argue with her, "When I'm 80, I'll buy hearing aids. I'll use the medicine the doctor gives me. I won't annoy my grandchildren with all my bellyaching!"
But, old age has curses beyond just physical ailments. My grandmother has outlived her parents, her husband, and all but one sister, and Christmas often brings up a painful melancholy. When I drive her around town doing errands on Friday mornings, she talks about how she sits in her empty house making lists of all the dead people she remembers this Christmas. She bemoans how bad the holidays will be now that all of these people have gone, without seeming to appreciate her daughter, grandchildren, or the three great-grandchildren that have brought so much joy to the rest of us.
I try to sympathize with her lonely situation, but I can't help but think if this is the "merry" Christmas that she spreads to everyone else, I don't want to get any older.