The Immortals

Laughter usually happens when a thing is a bit unexpected yet fits in its juxtaposed place and is recognized as also part of how things are. Researchers say that first the puzzle recognition parts of the brain light up, then the pleasure centers, and we laugh.

This first paragraph of the last chapter of David Brooks' book The Social Animal makes me laugh:
"It's hard to know when The Immortals started appearing on the mountains. You'd be hiking or biking or cross-country skiing outside of Aspen, Colorado, and from behind you'd hear this whoosh that sounded like an incoming F-18. You'd turn around and see this little nugget of Spandex. It was one of those superfit old guys who'd decided to go on a fitness jihad in retirement. He'd shrunk as he crossed age seventy, so he'd be four ten and ninety-five pounds of hard gristle wrapped in Spandex action gear. He'd be coming at you at ferocious speed, wearing weights on his wrists and ankles and a look of fierce determination on his small wrinkled face. You'd be huffing and puffing on the mountainside, and this superbuff Spandex senior would whiz by like a little iron Raisinette." (361)

He goes on in this vein for several more paragraphs, and I recognize those of whom he writes. I've met these same superseniors on the pages of the AARP magazine, and I occasionally skim those articles and allow myself to be amazed at the photos. It gives me such a sense of disconnectedness to think this is the ideal held up by the magazine that speaks for the organization of elders. Wow. Not anything close to the ideal I strive for, and quite unrelated to my life and struggles. Thankfully, Brooks goes on, in that last chapter, to describe the actual, real kinds of experiences that I do recognize as part of my life. So for a couple pages, its great fun to recognize this creative, delightful description of a small slice of the population and to laugh.