Old

April 8, 1967

April 8, 1967

Villa Montalvo is a historical landmark built in 1912 by James Duval Phelan. Phelan, was a three-term mayor of San Francisco, and went on to become California's first popularly-elected U.S. Senator. The estate was his beloved country home until his death in 1930.
Villa Montalvo is a historical landmark built in 1912 by James Duval Phelan. Phelan, was a three-term mayor of San Francisco, and went on to become California’s first popularly-elected U.S. Senator. The estate was his beloved country home until his death in 1930.

When I was sixteen, I rarely conversed with “old” people, aside from my grandparents. I didn’t have anything against them, we just didn’t move in the same circles. I suspect most millennials don’t spend a lot of time with people in their seventies, either. That’s why this encounter rated space in my diary. Seventy-five probably sounded prehistoric. Clearly, I assumed she was moments away from death.

Me at Villa Montalvo, around this time.
Me at Villa Montalvo, around this time.

When I was sixteen, “don’t trust anyone over thirty” was a popular sentiment. I couldn’t imagine myself so ancient. Like Simon and Garfunkel famously sang, “How terribly strange to be seventy” – forget seventy-five.

The grounds of the villa now encompass 175 acres, more than the original 160 acres purchased by Phelan. The estate boasts several large structures as well as gardens and untouched natural areas. Montalvo includes two theaters, an art gallery, the historic Villa Montalvo, an artist residency complex, hiking trails and gardens in Saratoga, CA.
The grounds of the villa now encompass 175 acres, more than the original 160 acres purchased by Phelan. The estate boasts several large structures as well as gardens and untouched natural areas. Montalvo includes two theaters, an art gallery, the historic Villa Montalvo, an artist residency complex, hiking trails and gardens in Saratoga, CA.

Yet, here I am – closer to seventy-five than seventeen but I don’t feel elderly. Aside from the creak in my joints after too many hours hunched over my laptop, I picture myself as a fit early forties. Okay, fifties. For sure, it’ll feel terribly strange to be seventy.

Old Friends

 

March 28, 2007

March 28, 2007

I began planning my funeral when I was young enough to believe it would never actually happen. When I picture it – which, fortunately, happens rarely – I imagine myself hovering near the ceiling, observing my turn-out, noting who really misses me and who’s just going through the motions. Ultimately, it’s about assessing what impact – if any – I had on the people in my world. I’d like them to play “Old and Wise.”

Old and Wise

Old

Unfortunately, I won’t have much control over my funeral. Most likely, I won’t even get to watch it – which seems terribly unfair – who among us wouldn’t love to be a silent observer at their own wake? Who isn’t curious about what people will say? But, maybe Alan Parsons got it right.
And oh, when I'm old and wise


WISE

 

 

 

 

 

Skip to toolbar