To Grow Up and Grow Old

If you are of a "certain age," the title will offer little mystery to you at this point in your life. You have made it this far and you are still going—perhaps no longer pacing fast, but nonetheless still going.

In the closing scene of the musical Camelot, King Arthur addresses Tom, the young lad who wanted to join the knights as Arthur prepared for battle. As part of his advice, Arthur tells the boy to stay behind the lines, go home, grow up, and grow old. He tells him to spread the word:

"Each evening, from December to December,

Before you drift to sleep upon your cot,

Think back on all the tales that you remember...

That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory."

And here you are. Whether you had many or few wisps of glory in your life, you did grow up and grow old. Your movement may be slower, but you are wiser, quick to remember every pleasant memory, and letting regrets take up no more space than a crumpled piece of paper.

Consider the story of Jonathan, a Seychelles giant tortoise living on the grounds of the Plantation House on Saint Helena. His age is estimated to be 193 as of 2026, making him the oldest known living land animal. While his vision is failing, he still hears well when summoned with fruit treats and continues to graze on his own.

Imagine if any of us had been granted Jonathan's longevity. To be his age today means you would have been born in 1833, when there were only 24 states in the USA. You would have lived through the Civil War, the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, emancipation, and reconstruction, followed by every major conflict since.

As a Russian in old Moscow, you would have been a senior citizen witnessing the 1917 revolution that ended the Romanov dynasty, and later felt the terror of German forces within 29 kilometers of the city in 1941.

If you lived in Manila, you would have seen the Spanish armada surrender to Admiral Dewey's navy in Manila Bay, ending 300 years of colonial rule. Before that, you would have witnessed the execution of Jose Rizal by a Spanish firing squad on December 30, 1896. You might have wondered if Dewey arriving two years sooner could have saved Rizal's life, changing the entire history of the Philippines, Cuba, and Puerto Rico.

Wherever you lived, you might have heard the loudest sound ever recorded when the Krakatoa volcano erupted on August 27, 1883, with a force of 300 megatons of TNT. You would have also been around during the flu pandemic that claimed between 50 and 100 million lives worldwide.

There was good news, too. You would have been a child when Samuel Morse tapped the first official telegraph message in 1844: "What hath God wrought?" You would have witnessed Jonas Salk develop the polio vaccine, marveled at the first radio broadcasts of baseball, experienced the advent of FM stereo, and watched television images culminate in Neil Armstrong walking on the moon.

Yet, would you still want to keep living when, at 135 years of age, you watched the tragic coverage of the Vietnam War and the many human conflicts and natural disasters that followed?

What then is the ideal lifetime? Is 150 to 200 years truly ideal? Perhaps it is not about how long you live, but how well you grow up and grow old. Life's final destination is a single point in time, while the journey is a continuous ribbon of multiple hues that twists and turns, much like the River's Parable I wrote a few months back.

The purpose of a river is not simply to reach the ocean and die there; its work is done along the journey. Every river begins from tiny droplets that converge into rivulets, tributaries, and streams. This describes our lives from conception and birth to growing old.

So, here you are, still flowing and not yet done. If you have reached an average lifespan, you have lived among three generations. Whether you have touched the lives of a few or affected many, growing old still matters to those along your riverbanks. The nutrients your life's river carries should not be underestimated. It is not how long the journey takes, but how much it carries and leaves behind.

So, before you "drift to sleep upon your cot" each night, think back on the good nutrients you have dropped along the way. "That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory" means many wisps you handed out yourself, or helped others catch. Growing up meant catching wisps handed down by those ahead of you; growing old is about keeping the ledger of life lopsidedly more good than bad.

To grow up and grow old is a gift to cherish—one that many never received. It allows you to fill a full reel of film that you can review, rewind, and edit to make the journey even more pleasant. That is the privilege accorded to us all before we drift to sleep, and perhaps awaken to many more tomorrows.

Best regards,

Hermie Tolerba