Over The Hill But Not Under It - Essays On Aging and Caregiving

By V Bernard

Over The Hill But Not Under It - Essays On Aging And Caregiving is a call to reshape the narrative around aging -- to celebrate later life as a period rich with potential and joy.  It is an invitation to honor our elders with genuine respect and to embrace our own aging process with grace.  This book is a must-read for anyone seeking to understand the full spectrum of life's journey, offering new and inspiring perspectives.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: V Bernard
• Release date: Dec 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223448778

V Bernard

V. Benard's approach to life is like his approach to a good joke -- timing is everything.  Now that he's in what some might call the final chapter of life, he has learned that life isn't only about reaching the highest peaks, but also how you crossed the valleys in between.  

Book preview

Introduction

My father had an old timey name, McNeil. To this day, I’ve never met another person with that first name. He was 51 years old when I was born. My mother was 33.  

Dad had a receding hairline, and his remaining hairs were mostly gray. He frequently complained about his health — heartburn, ulcers, and arthritis— and he was always tired whenever I asked him to do any activity with me.  

Wait until you get to be my age, he often said. 

You’ll understand.

Back then, no one said, Fifty is the new forty because most people looked every bit of their chronological years unless they looked older, and to my young mind, my father was in the latter group of geriatrics.  

A lifetime of smoking and weekend alcoholism made him appear far more advanced than his years. The fact that he wore dentures and chugged Milk of Magnesia further ingrained my image of an older person. We had a complicated relationship, and his age played a critical role.  

For starters, his elderly appearance embarrassed me. I cringed when people said that I resembled him. He was old enough to be my grandfather and looked the part. I didn’t want to look like an old person! 

If someone I didn’t know well asked whether he was my father, I’d lie and say he wasn’t or that he was my granddad. 

In truth, my father had grandchildren. My mom, my sisters, and I were from his second family. I had three half-sisters and a half-brother. He was a year younger than my mother. All of my half-siblings had children – my nieces and nephews—who were near my age.

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Our parents raised us during the sixties and seventies, a period when society challenged isms such as sexism and racism.  Despite this progressive period, my father was a diehard traditionalist. Men worked to provide food and shelter. Women stayed at home to cook, clean, and raise the kids. As a result, my mother didn’t work outside the home during much of my youth. Dad was our only source of income, so I worried that he’d die before I was old enough to get a job and care for my mother and sisters. I had the views of a child, one who wanted security and the certainty of knowing we’d be fine if something were to happen to my father. I had a limited perspective, but perspective is a quality that requires time and experience to help you appreciate your circumstances.

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My father’s physical appearance, how he acted, and chronic health conditions further shaped my views on aging. Becoming old was something to avoid, a silly thought if you consider that the alternative to getting old is death. But when you’re young and healthy, you lack the context to understand aging.  

As a result, I was never as curious about my dad’s life experiences as I should have been, although I gleaned bits of information over the years. As a kid, a venomous snake bit him while he was doing chores on his family’s farm. He had an older brother who the Ku Klux Klan murdered, and his mother died when she was in her forties. During his youth and his young adulthood, he lacked the modern-day conveniences that we now take for granted. So, he had to learn to make and fix things with his hands.  

A grease monkey