ERP1: Growing up by Russell Baker - Question b.

She is seventy-four, short, bespectacled, and has wrinkled skin. She lives in a humble HDB flat, reading and watching television. Sometimes my cousin pops by her house after school to keep her company. Disrupting her peace? Perhaps. This, is my grandmother.

Nevertheless, she has not succumbed to the wheelchair; neither does she have to employ a maid. Together with my grandfather, they go for walks in the nearby park. My family would visit them every Saturday, and she can still speak and laugh like anyone else. This, is still my grandmother.

It has been commonly said that the life of a human is a cycle. We are born as babies, ignorant to the world and simple in thought. As we mature, we increase in knowledge and understanding of the world, growing more complex. However, life takes a downturn as we progress with age and eventually as the elderly, we return to our simple state yet again due to our handicaps.

Looking at the elderly limping along the pavements, sometimes I feel very saddened by the very thought of how cruel life can be. All the joy experienced in our youth will eventually lead us to an unchangeable path of deterioration in function until we are finally laid to rest. In our final years, all we have is a beautiful memory of whatever has gone by.

My grandmother has also stood the test of time. Recently, because her knee joints were worn out, they had to be replaced with artificial mechanisms. She was able to climb the steps efficiently in the past, but wear and tear being an inevitable part of one’s life, her joints eventually failed her. Thankfully, with advancements in science, the ageing process can be impeded. Currently, she can still climb the steps, but the time taken has been lengthened nevertheless.

My grandmother may be aged in appearance and actions, but never in person.

She was a housewife when she still grew black hair, going about the usual chores of any other mother. Children have always been a headache, and so have the bills. Life must have been more carefree for mothers after their children married out and found their footing in society. After twenty to thirty years, is it still safe to say that they are carefree?

Some say that people get quieter as they advance in age. I find it present in my grandmother, but only from a superficial point of view. My grandparents live alone in their house, and the very thought that no one visits them every day does stir up some guilt in me. Despite this stereotypical solitary image, upon conversing with them, I still find the zest and liveliness in their speech. They can laugh – yes they can – so much so that I feel the aura of joy each time I hear it. No, the elderly are not that quiet. And no, it is not the mahjong table.

In truth, traditional ideologies do stay the same for most elderly. In the past, communication was difficult and messages had to be literally delivered by mouth, and what more the existence of telephones. As such, many grandparents including mine are stringent on the usage of telephones even in today’s society. I used to plead for the telephone to speak to my parents, but I was always thwarted back with the blunt “No.” Discipline is yet another tradition.

It was a Saturday when my cousins and I spent a night at my grandparents’ house. It was already eleven and we were still tossing around in bed. My grandmother blared in Mandarin, “If you still aren’t going to sleep in ten minutes’ time, I’m going to cane you! So sleep!” One young cousin of mine turned a deaf ear to her words, and the cane served its purpose. So stays the tradition.

Despite her artificial joints and deteriorating muscles, my grandmother still makes it an effort to go for morning walks. She would also make her way to the supermarket on foot with my grandfather. Aged as she may be, nothing seems to be able to stop her from moving about.

Geoffrey Parfitt once said: “People say that age is a state of mind. I say it’s more about the state of your body.” Indeed, I believe that ageing revolves about the outer appearance more than the inner self. One may still keep one’s youthfulness and experiences in a shrivelled body. Although ageing affects how much a person can do, it cannot affect how much a person feels and thinks. Our mental ability may take a turn sometime in life, but even then, with all the experience one has gone through, how can an aged elderly be paralleled to a meek child?

Change can be positive or negative – ageing is not always about the latter.