And the seasons, they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We’re captive on the carousel of time

We can’t return, we can only look

Behind, from where we came

And go round and round and round, in the circle game

Last week, one month ahead of my birthday, I went to an Italian optometrist to have my eyesight checked out. I went because I eventually figured out that I was having a hard time reading things. Not just first thing in the morning when everything was still blurry. But at all other times too. Like with most moments in my life, it was a bit delayed in reading the sign of the times. 

As it turned out, I passed the battery of Italian alphabet pronunciation in reading the letter charts (really, I reviewed the alphabet to ensure I wasn’t just guessing how it sounded…as I usually do). The problem was, I didn’t always correctly interpret the right letter. And so there it was: for the first time in my life, I was prescribed glasses. I’m not trying to be overly dramatic as the prescription was only for the reading type. And indeed, the optometrist told me that I could go to the pharmacy and pick up a standard pair for quick reading.  And it was then in that moment that I understood that baker’s dozen of CVS glasses that my father has stashed all over ethe house.  A rite of passage I found myself in. And in recognizing this I also felt as though another soft punch was being delivered to my ego’s delusion of being bulletproof. 

“It’s a natural thing,” my older sister told me in response. “Eventually it happens to everyone.” 

This made me feel better— until I heard the voice of my father in my head: 

“Just you wait — it gets worse!” Dad has always provided this commentary whenever I announced the slightest degradation in my body’s overall well-being. 

Both of my relations are right of course. This is simply the natural order of things. 

I was a couple days into feeling bummed about getting reading glasses when I read about one of my favorite artists playing the Newport Folk Festival this past weekend. Most older people walking around on two feet in America know Joni Mitchell’s name, even if they were never a big fan. As for me, I am one of those big fans.  

What was remarkable about her performance is that she is 78 years old and has learned how to walk, play guitar and live again after a brain aneurysm 8 years ago.  The performance is readily watchable on YouTube, and it is uncommonly spellbinding when you listen to the words and consider where this woman has been and how she is returned to the stage. I even showed it to my Dad, knowing full well that he isn’t a Joni Mitchell fan. “Courageous lady!” was his response. I couldn’t agree more. 

It’s obvious that thinking about older folks such as Joni—those who are still around and working on their craft no matter how famous—are a renewed source of inspiration for me. They’re lucky enough to be further along down the road, navigating the aspects of life that feel dark and scary when you are young. The loss of ability in aspects that you always take for granted when you are younger. The stuff you try not to imagine will ever come your way because when you are young, your eyesight is good. You are more or less bulletproof unless you do something stupid like fall out of a tree while waiting for the school bus and then suffer a concussion and have trouble walking straight. But even in those younger life injuries, most of them—hopefully—you bounce back from.

I’ve looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It’s life’s illusions I recall

I really don’t know life at all

I think about another saying that my parents had when we were young. Actually, it was a sign that they had hanging up on the fridge if I remember well (note: I am getting older and probably don’t remember well).  It bore the words “NO WHINING” with a big red circle and a line through it.  I’d have to ask my parents now how well we did in respecting that sign, but in my memory, I know that complaining as such was not tolerated in the slightest.  

That sign still sticks with me today. I try to remember it when I start to grumble about blurring eyesight. I think about it when I watch the brave and bravissima performance of Joni Mitchell in front of a crowd of awestruck fans in Newport. I return to her early albums like Blue and Court And Spark and then jump to the Grammy-winning and amazing Turbulent Indigo. I think of her voices on each of those albums and then listen to her in Newport. We’re always changing, and the conditions under which we operate are always changing too. Whether we want them to or not.

Oh, you tireless watcher

What have I done to you?

That you make everything I dread and everything I fear

Come true

It’s not always beautiful or elegant, the way in which we navigate through the wickets of life. But I try to remember that at least to make it through each one is the real victory. I think what I appreciate about Joni Mitchell is that her music has contributed to so much of my own personal soundtrack. And I don’t for a moment imagine that I am the only person here. We’re all moving along on this flight tonight. Turn this crazy bird around….the truth is that we cannot. 

The eyeglasses that I bought last Saturday will be worn and then probably left somewhere. And eventually after that moment, I will do as my father does and start going to CVS (or the Italian equivalent) for a few cheap pairs that I can keep stashed in the various places of my life like I currently do with tubes of Burt’s Bees chapstick. I’m growing into the reality of what life is, even though I still experience some growing pains when it comes to acceptance to the way that things are.

But I think about my parents, and all of my loved ones who are older than me. I listen closely when they tell me how things are going. I try to take notes with a mind to applying their exceptional performances to my own conduct if I ever get as far as they find themselves. Even with someone unknown like a folk singer on the main stage at Newport. Getting older takes a lot of courage, whether you want to comply or not. It’s what the seasons require, holding tight as we go round and round. And so I won’t whine, but I will wear the glasses. I will do whatever else that my body asks of me as it doesn’t do everything that I once imagined that it always would do. I’ll do it because I have been encouraged by what has been demonstrated as possible by the advanced world around me.