How Old Are You Going to Be?

By Elaine Viets

Let me say the words no woman in my family ever uttered:

I am 57 years old.

Damn, that felt good. Let me repeat:

I AM 57 YEARS OLD.

My mother and grandmother lied about their ages. No, they didn’t lie. They created an elaborate fiction equal to the Harry Potter saga.

Every December, my grandmother would call my mother and say, "How old are you going to be this year?" Then they would adjust their ages downward, while my grandfather giggled hysterically. Grandma never got her age out of the low forties, though she lived to be seventy-something.

I never knew my grandmother’s true age. But lying about it didn’t make her look any younger. She was a delightful old-fashioned grandma with crinkly gray hair, sensible shoes and a flour-sack figure.

Mom would have withstood waterboarding rather than admit how old she was. She looked younger than her actual age. But how much younger, I couldn’t say.

"A woman who will tell her age will tell anything," Mom declared, as if she was delivering an important life lesson.

When I went to college, I needed my mother’s age for the paperwork. She refused to tell me, as if the University of Missouri would publish that top secret information on the front page of the campus paper. As a budding reporter, I was determined to get the facts.

I waited until Mom and Dad were out of the house. Then I dug around in the attic and found Mom’s birth and marriage certificates.

That’s when I learned her dirty secret: Mom was four years older than my father.

Nowadays, if a woman married a younger man – especially a handsome blond sailor – we’d say, "Go for it!" and cheer her on.

But Mom was deeply embarrassed by this mild deviation from the American dream. The way she hid her secret, you would have sworn she kept a love child in the attic. Many women from her generation did the same thing. The 1950s was a time of terrifying normality. These women seemed ashamed of being adults, and blushed and giggled like teenagers when some guy called them "girls." They actually thought that word was flattering.

I knew one thing early on: I was not going to play the age game. I was what I was. Besides, I couldn’t do the math gymnastics that Mom and Grandma did so that the major milestones in their lives were in proper alignment.

The ceremony of the age-changing went on all through my high school and college years. When I was 22, I got a job at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Three years later, during the Christmas holidays, my mother sat me down and said, "You have to do something about your age. You’re making us look bad."

Indeed, it was hard for Mom to claim she was 35, when she had a 25-year-old daughter. Missouri frowned on marriage at age 10 – especially since the groom would be six years old.

"I’m not going to lie," I said, summoning up all the righteousness I could at age 25 – which is considerably more than I have now.

Mom didn’t push the issue. Instead, she started lying for me. I found out when one of her women said to me, "I think it’s wonderful that the Post-Dispatch hired you right out of high school." Mom and Grandma had pushed my age back by four years without telling me. That made me a workplace prodigy.

If they wanted to lie, that was fine with me. As long as I didn’t. I belonged to the age of Aquarius. Lying to make yourself younger was old-fashioned.

In her long life, Grandma told the truth to only one man besides my grandfather.

When she collected her first Social Security check, Grandma suddenly aged more than 25 years.

Even she wouldn’t lie about her age to Uncle Sam.

Comments

[Tom]

Funny how 'normal' has changed, isn't it?

ML and I are not in the 'normal' proportion of male-to-female ages. It's never been an issue for us. Given the rest of our eccentricities, it's not even especially notable!

[mary alice at mystery lovers bookshop]

How interesting you should mention this today, Elaine.
I was outed at our Polish Christmas Eve dinner with friends when the passing/sharing of the Oplatek was decided by one of the kids to be done by age----for the first time. As one four years older than my husband, but not older than the conservative grandparents in attendance, my turn at passing the wafer came really early. I made it thru the beloved ritual as the liberal parent/grandparent who our hosts never had.
For those of you who had traditional (whatever that is!)Christmas traditions, I can only say that this German/Irish/French partner to a Russian Jew values all those moments we share........even when we are there as the beloved liberal components of a family feast.
Ya gotta love this holiday.......this year our Pgh daughter(our boys and fimilies were in CA and Chicago)was very sick on Christmas Day, so we packed up the gifts all sent to our place into pillow cases and went to her house. We enjoyed the gifts with she and her African-American partner, went for Chinese food and a movie.
I love this country! Age, ethnic origins and pure love flow freely.

Merry everything to all and Elaine, you look marvolous for 57! In your inner child you rock!

[ArkansasCyndi]

Very interesting blog. My mother also lies about her age. If I hadn't learned her age when I was born (and can thus add that age to my current age), I'd never know. She said she was 39 until I was almost 40, then it was impossible to pass herself off as younger than her daughter...but she'd try if she could.

I'm glad you're still here to tell us you're 57!

[Elaine Viets]

Anyone who longs to return to the good old days has forgotten what a lockstep world that was.
Mary Alice, hope your daughter is feeling better. I'm picturing you and Richard with those full pillowcases, like high-class burlgars.

[Kathleen George]

I had a cousin who collaborated with her mother's fiction by putting the wrong birth date on her mother's gravestone. "She would have wanted it that way." Meanwhile I am trying to be brave about my own age. At a party the other night, the talk turned to teens meeting up at malls these days as the way to . . . Well, I'm not sure where they do their fumbling later after they've met up. But I announced that in my day the routine was going to the local movie theatre where we played musical chairs and tried to look innocently flirty until we were chosen by someone we aimed to be chosen by and began to "make out." People at the party looked at me curiously, a sign that I was talking to a younger generation. But hey, it was a good method. Very sexy. Anonymous dark fumbling.

[Elaine Viets]

Oops. I mean burglars.

[Elaine Viets]

I gave a speech at a college and then drank Cold Duck with the students. You'd think I would learn not to drink anything with a plastic cork, but no, I was being so cool. About halfway through the evening (and the bottle) I said my real age. One of the students said, "Wow, you're older than my Mom." I felt like he could cut off my legs and count the age rings.

[Maryann Mercer]

I never saw anything wrong with telling my true age...I was the youngest in my class,so I almost wished I was a year older than I really was. December babies have that issue sometimes (or I did). I just turned 61. One more year and I can blow this pop stand if I choose and work part-time :o) It is hard for me to believe my child is 37 though. Must be a parent thing.
Of course, at B&N I work with people young enough to be my grandkids...and that can make me feel ancient, especially when one of them says "Adlai who?" Yikes! And forget Bobby Sherman...:o)
Elaine, I would never have guessed...you could have shaved a decade off and I'd never have questioned it!
Hope everyone's holiday was a happy one!

[Sheila Connolly]

57 has been a good year, so I'm not complaining. But my grandmother stopped talking about it at all, my mother reached 39 and paused for a while, then finally graduated to 49 for good, and my (younger) sister has reached 39 and holding.

BTW, we also lied on my grandmother's tombstone--we put what she would have wanted, rather than what we knew (or guessed?) to be true. Every official document she had gave a different birth date.

What a shame that our culture places so little value on wisdom and experience!

[Kerry, the Martial Tart]

Way to go, Elaine! I've never seen the point of lying about my age, although I have to admit that I've imbibed enough of our youth-centric culture to understand that my ability to welcome 50 probably has a lot to do with the fact that folks routinely tell me I look younger than that. But having a daughter ready to turn 25 is just plain scary :)

As for the other -- well, I finally wised up and married a man 3 years younger than I. It's been working like a charm for 17 years . . .

[Kathy Reschini Sweeney]

Great blog, Elaine!

I am 47 and proud of it - earned every one of those years.

We didn't know my Nana's real age until she died - she'd been lying her entire life!

Thank heaven we don't have to worry about that crap any more.

Merry, merry, everyone - hope you are still in the holiday spirit.

Mary Alice - terrific story and I hope Alison is feeling better.

[Nancy Martin]

I had a great aunt who was 75 for many, many years until her 90th birthday, when she revealed she was much closer to 100!

Egad, I just realized I'll be 55 this year. Maybe it's time to start fibbing.

Great blog, Elaine!

Sarah, how did the rib roast turn out??

[Mary Storyteller]

Great topic! I used to tell my students my year of birth 1948 and then they had to do math to get to the age. Once a counselor showed them the year and months computation they did for some achievement tests; they had fun with that one. My 50th was such fun, at Jonesborough for the National Storytelling (Oct. 5), so I think I have to be there next year for 60! (Last year someone ahead of me in the porta-potty line sang happy birthday to me -- it's that kind of place). And when I wear my Ren. Faire shirt "I survived the flood of 1549, then people really tell me how young I look for my age!
My dad stayed 39 like Jack Benny until he hit 50, just didn't care for 40, I guess.

[Mary Storyteller]

Book talk (someone was wise even early in her life):
I just finished Elaine's _Viet's Guide to Sex, Travel & Anything Else That Will Sell This Book_ (just in time, as it is on request at the library). . . I loved it! It reminded me of how much my mom and I used to enjoy reading and discussing and laughing at Elaine's columns. No one is really doing that type of writing at the Post any longer, and it's a shame. We need to laugh, at ourselves and our foibles, and those columns helped build a sense of community . . .lovable, quirks and all.
I noticed that sense of neighborhood in Doc in a Box also, the wonderful neighbors, looking out for one another, and criticizing as only "family" can. Now I'm looking for _Urban Affairs_.

[michele]

All I can say Elaine is . . . you sure don't look it! Funny blog.

[Harley]

I'm about to be 51, which in our family is The Big Year, as my dad died at 51 and there's some sort of sibling superstition about getting through and making it to 52. I think I'm going to make it.

Mary Alice! I haven't heard the word "Oplatek" for years! Well, okay, I've never heard it. In Slovak Catholic circles we called it Oplatki, but my aunts in Wilkes-Barre sent it west to Nebraska for us every Christmas. They're now all dead and I miss it. Next year, can you send me some? Do you eat it with honey on it? We did.

[Shannon]

My mom used to jokingly tell people she was 29 and then one year someone believed her when she said that meant she'd had my brother when she was 12. She decided if people were going to believe her, then it was time to stop.

[Gayle]

Yeah, for you and truth in aging. Maybe if more people admitted to their age there wouldn't be so unrealistic about it. Many people think I'm much younger than I am (59 -- the only reason I can tell is I hit the decades in years ending in 8). Age doesn't mean anything to me so I don't keep track. I have birthdays but the only time I figure my age is when I have to fill it in on a form and often they only want the date of birth so why bother. Seems to me once you pass the major milestones (16 and can drive; 21 and can drink) there's no sense until retirement which is whenever (65, 72, 75, 80 or ???) depending on when you started work.

I do get a kick out of women who tell me "When you get as old as I am, you'll understand that now you can't X". Usually these women are younger than me and I worry that so many women limit themselves with all these "shoulds" that have nothing to do with reality but are simply 'rules' that somehow because law in their minds.

[Mary Storyteller]

Gayle, I even had a friend say that after a certain age, one shouldn't wear t-shirts! I really can't figure that one out, and I'm wearing Storytelling Festival t-shirts (and "Metaphors Be With You") for as long as I want -- so there!
My favorite (dont' tell the others) niece was born when I was 40, so when she was 4, we went through the years, "When you were 1, I was 41, . . .now you are 4 and I'm 44, and next year," so proud to know her numbers, she said, "I'll be 5 and you'll be 55." Yikes! By that math I'd now be . . .nope, not going there . . .
(My mom never lied about her age, but she did teach us that it wasn't polite to ask grown women their ages. I guessed they weren't as proud of birthdays as we kids were).

[Mary Storyteller]

Age is just a number -- 77 and still hot!
Now, a song for you!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mMnUDaOJT0

[Harley]

Good God, at what age am I not supposed to wear T-shirts? Because I expect I'll die in jeans and a T-shirt. They are the housedress of my generation.

And I want to be cremated with my socks on because my feet are always cold and I don't expect that to change just because I'm dead.

[Mary Storyteller]

It was whatever age she was (and I think she's younger than I), but to be fair, when I looked startled, she amended it to just a rule for herself, not others . . .

[Granny Sue]

Men hide their age sometimes too. My father-in-law lied about his age as a boy so he could go into the coal mines sooner and start earning money. Later when he wanted to draw Social Security he had a heck of a time proving his age. When we buried him, we were still not sure, and I think his death certificate has him as a year younger than his oldest sister, even though there were a couple of brothers between them. Young in life, young in death.
Me? 56 and proud of every one of those years, and the gray hairs to go with them.

[Rita Scott]

Oh Elaine, I'm 57 and look it, you look 40! I figure kids make us older, and I've earned every damn gray hair (and work hard to make it look blond! LOL)

[Mary Storyteller]

Granny Sue, good to see you here at TLC. Your blog and this one were the first I added to my toolbar favorites so I could check them daily. Love the New Year's stories!