When the country singer Toby Keith met Clint Eastwood at a charity golf tournament Keith asked the movie star how he managed to have so much energy at age 88. Eastwood responded “I don’t let the old man in”, a quote that Keith turned into a song about a man dealing with his increasing age.
“Don't let the old man in, I wanna leave this alone
Can't leave it up to him, he's knocking on my door
And I knew all of my life, that someday it would end
Get up and go outside, don't let the old man in
Many moons I have lived
My body's weathered and worn
Ask yourself how would you be
If you didn't know the day you were born
Try to love on your wife
And stay close to your friends
Toast each sundown with wine
Don't let the old man in
Many moons I have lived
My body's weathered and worn
Ask yourself how would you be
If you didn't know the day you were born
When he rides up on his horse
And you feel that cold bitter wind
Look out your window and smile
Don't let the old man in
Look out your window and smile
Don't let the old man in”
Keith sent the recording to Eastwood who included it on a movie about an elderly man who becomes a drug courier.
The thought has been following me for several months, as in forty-five days I will turn 80 years old, and I’ll do all I can to prevent that old man from climbing through a window, appearing at my bedside, setting a place at the table, texting me, sending emails, or making any effort to become friends. I’m not that social, anyhow, and the thought that someone I don’t know wants to friend me doesn’t make my heart skip a beep. Whoops! That heart has no business skipping a beat.
So what am I doing to keep him away? Some good, some not so good. I’ll begin with the good: a decent diet, 6-7 hours of sleep, five miles a week freestyle in a 25 yard lap pool, a few miles on foot, some grandparent things, the efforts to keep old man companions away, too—alcohol, cigarettes, candy, chips, salt, and more generally, stress, disappointment, anger, and the trifecta of the “coulda woulda shouldas”. I’ve made it clear that regrets aren’t welcome, either.
I struggle with another old man who has been playing with my mind for the last ten years—Old Man Trump. I’ve suggested to my persistently knocking-on- the- door old man that he go to Washington, where his services, already in motion, are needed.
But there’s more. I’ve just returned from Ethiopia and brought back with me some meaningful expressions of photographic art. I did the same last fall after three weeks in Brazil. All of that followed trips to Jordan and Egypt. I fell in love again in all of those places—with the people, the kindnesses, the warmth, hospitality, and welcomes from people on the street, from hotel and restaurant staff, knowledgeable guides, and most memorably from the children celebrating the end of Ramadan who welcomed me and my camera in Aswan. I never tire of making images.
I’m keeping the old man out when I continue to make art, to print, to examine my work, and show what I still can do with a camera. I keep him out every Thursday when I help serve breakfast to the homeless. I keep him away when I walk four miles with Ted every Tuesday, keep in touch with friends, invite my brothers to dinners, watch grandchildren kick soccer balls and hit baseballs.
Hemingway focused on the old man in his novella, “The Old Man and the Sea.” He wrote, “A man can be destroyed but not defeated.” Someday the old man will find me, despite my best efforts to keep him away. I’d like to be like Hemingway’s old man, destroyed but not defeated.