Perhaps the toughest struggles with aging are waged by athletes and actors, the “beautiful people” who have made their mark with physical prowess or glamour. There is nothing sadder than an over-the-hill athlete who has let his body go and knows that his day is past. Or an actress whose youthful image still appears on late-night movies but who no longer wants to be seen in public because the years have taken their toll.

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           Sophia Loren said, “There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring in your life and the lives of people you love. Today, women are doing things that their mothers would never have dreamed of doing. I consider myself very fortunate to be living in a time when there is always a future for a woman, no matter what her age.”

Browning’s poem “Rabbi Ben Ezra” has a couplet that says,

Grow old along with me,
The best is yet to be.

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           Some cynics scoff at such talk and say that Browning knew nothing about the hell of old age. I decided to test this idealism on a friend whom I admire a great deal and who, at sixty-two, claims that she “keeps five different medical specialists busy.” I read her the poem and asked if she thought it mere sentimentalism.

           She sat and thought a moment, “Oh, maybe Browning overstated it a little,” she said. “Old age is not for sissies.” Then a twinkle came into her eye. “But I’ll tell you one thing,” she said, leaning forward. “I’d rather spend these years with a man who says, “Come grow old with me, the best is yet to be,” than with some crotchety old fellow who can only sit by the window and curse his fate.”