I saw a miracle in Los Angeles. There were three Englishmen with wrinkles on their faces. Their ages were 77, 79 and 80, and they were performing some songs that were nearly 60 years old. Despite their ages and looks, their lead singer moved like Jagger. That’s because he was Jagger. As the saying goes, moss doesn’t grow on a Rolling Stone.
Despite their age and looks, their lead singer moved like Jagger. That’s because he was Jagger. As the saying goes, moss doesn’t grow on a Rolling Stone.
Mick Jagger literally skipped across the stage, and I nearly cried at seeing that this was possible for a human being. Obviously this mobility isn’t usual for the age group, as demonstrated by Dr. Jill Biden’s husband. Ethics of the Fathers teaches that 80 is the age of “strength.” Jagger clearly got the rabbinic memo, unlike the current president.
I loved how Mick, Ronnie Wood and Johnny Depp’s dad (Keith Richards) wore rugged lines on their face. Their deep facial furrows are a testament to decades of rock ’n’ roll, the genre that they helped invent.
These days I’m thinking a lot about age, as I commute between Los Angeles and London to regularly visit my parents. My father is suffering from the long-term lung disease, idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. Its symptoms include scar tissue and fibers growing inside the lungs, which gradually reduce lung capacity. It comes with a cough that makes it hard for him to get to sleep, weight loss and reduced appetite. As he suffers, my heart feels like a two-ton weight.
My Dad has a voracious appetite for life, beginning each day with a thirst for playing tennis and golf, trimming the grass and picking apples in their English country garden, and doing a range of DIY jobs around the house. His mobility is more limited at the moment, but fortunately my parents cultivated a card game addiction with their friends throughout the lockdowns. Their habit includes bridge and American canasta, and it is like a poignant full-circle, since my dad’s job was working in a London casino dealing blackjack when he first met my mother 55 years ago.
It is incredibly hard to watch Dad’s breathing difficulties, but a meaningful by-product of the situation is that it continues to deepen our father-son bond. We spend a lot more time together, and I hear stories that I’ve never heard before, whether it’s dating anecdotes from the late 1960s, tales from his time as a touring musician around the U.K., or memories of now-departed relatives.
In the meantime, I continue to pray for medical breakthroughs to help my father’s health improve, so that in the near future he can move like Jagger.
I would recommend anyone with older relatives to spend time asking questions about past experiences, and listening closely to the answers. It can provide insights into our own life: how we got here, where we are going, and what we can do to maximize enjoyment and meaning along the way.
Despite the inevitability of aging, there is still an obsession with fighting it, and Los Angeles is on the frontlines of the battlefield. Perhaps our energy would be better spent diverting all that energy to fighting antisemitism rather than age.
One great weapon in the anti-age battle is the“Facetune” app, which I learned about through a friend who is a swimwear model. The app allows you to perform all kinds of facial tune-ups on your photos, including reshaping your nose, redesigning your eyes, or squaring your chin line. You can even reduce the size of your tuchus, or increase it, depending on your proclivity. In full disclosure, that’s not something I’ve felt the need to use.
We currently have a president who is 81, a potential-president-in-waiting who is 78, Rolling Stones who are rolling into their eighth decade, and my dad is looking forward to his 80th birthday in January. Longevity is increasing, and it’s predicted that by 2054, some humans will live until at least 160. When I reach the age of 80, I’ll be able to celebrate my mid-life crisis.
Ethics of the Fathers teaches that 70 is the age of “seva,” or satisfaction. So by Rabbinic standards, perhaps Mick Jagger finally got his satisfaction after all.
Marcus J Freed is an actor & writer, and author of “The Kosher Sutras: A Yogi’s Guide to the Torah.” On social @marcusjfreed and online at www.marcusjfreed.com.
