Gough Whitlam is enraged about getting old. He can’t tie his shoelaces, is in aged care because he can’t take a shower, but is still sharp of mind and goes to his city office three days a week. Sometimes I take the train to Liverpool and always watch for the Gough Whitlam Library at Cabramatta (I used to borrow from it when working at Fairfield). After he was deposed, I joined the South Canberra Labor Party branch and Gough and Margaret were members; I was Assistant Secretary and had to take the minutes. They attended meetings and his speeches were magical – even when he was wrong. Some 20 years later I attended a function at the Australian National Gallery where he was speaking and as he passed by my table, he said ‘Hello Comrade’. I have high regard for the man, considered by some, to be our worst Prime Minister, but by me, a remarkable person. At 94 what does this amazing man expect from getting old?

His rage made me think about my aging. Life expectancy between 1901-2000, at birth, increased by 21.4 years for males and 23.3 years for females. This is significant. The average Australian can now expect to live for 81 years (http://data.worldbank.org/country/australia). Gough was born 1916 when life expectancy was 63 for a male so that he is significantly above average. At 72, I can still tie my shoelaces and take a shower unassisted and enjoy life and my life expectancy for a 1939 baby is 84 years[1]. My knees are painful, I’m overweight, have a hiatus hernia, some leakage in the veins in the left leg, but overall, am well. I can still ride my bike, drive my gas-emitting vehicle, walk the dogs and earn a modest income. I have time to read and write and learn, time to listen to a wide range of music, look at art, explore my mind and consider my life. I am content.

Until about 5 years ago, I was physically active swimming a kilometer every morning, walking and cycling in the bush most weekends, vigorously maintaining the garden, going out a lot socially. Then some clock stopped in my body and I became indolent and reclusive. The foundation of fitness and muscular strength has been beneficial and apart from the above-mentioned minor problems, I expect to enjoy another interesting ten years. However, observing relatives and friends I can see that aging is not the pleasure I experience. My Mother was 84 when she died (her statistical life expectancy was 61). She was blind, fell over often and when I last visited her, she wanted to die. A woman of fine mind, a big reader, textile worker (knitting, making clothes, a furrier by trade) she was deprived of all her interests and had nothing to live for. I have a 60-year-old friend who has led a much more physically active life than myself and in the past five years has had a heart operation and his knees replaced. Another friend, 75, is recovering from an appallingly painful prostate operation and for the time I have known him, has been partially crippled with arthritis in his knees. These are life-robbing afflictions, which I hope to avoid.

Here are some of the interesting events that happen with music, reading and writing as I age. I heard Shostakovich’s, ‘From Jewish Folk Poetry’, Op 79a, on my car radio and was thrilled by the extraordinary singing and orchestral support and on getting home and was able to record the last two poems, which I emailed to a Canadian-Australian-Jewish friend who recognized but couldn’t translate the Yiddish. He tracked down the score and I found that I Musici Montreal had recorded these poems. Here is the background to this music:

In the Soviet Union of Shostakovich, Jewish culture held a controversial position: the idea of a distinct Jewish people was scientifically untenable. Jewish culture existed on the borderline between the permitted and the undesirable. For Shostakovich, it meant his exploration of Jewish idiom was loaded with risk and potentially explosive.

The vocal cycle “From Jewish Folk Poetry” is a masterpiece of folk idiom stylization. In 1948, Shostakovich was harshly criticized and blamed for that work. His inspiration came from a collection of folk poems he read. The collection was a Russian translation of Yiddish poems. To be politically correct, Shostakovich had to make some adjustments. In the Lullaby, the original Yiddish reads: “Your father is in Siberia.” This becomes: “Your Father is in Siberia, The Czar holds him in prison.” The whole work is full of such occurrences. It was Shostakovich’s ‘wish to have these songs performed in Yiddish. He was actually fond of the language and probably did not use Yiddish because that would have put his career – his life — in danger. The work was not performed until after Stalin’s death. http://archive.chazzanut.com/jewish-music/msg18005.html

I have a huge regard for I Musici Montreal; Yuli Torovsky participated in premieres of late Shostakovich compositions under the guidance of the composer: this is a significant pedigree, so I ordered the CD from Amazon.com. I could have downloaded this music but prefer the CD for its higher fidelity. This is not trivial music; Shostakovich risked his life. One afternoon, listening on a car radio, his composition opened up the wonders of Yiddish and the horror of anti-Semitism. This really hasn’t a connection to aging but my current lifestyle allowed the space to follow the thread from aural excitement to a deeper understanding of this music.

Music is important and I have been listening most of my life. Programmes such as The Village Glee Club, Singers of renown (ABC RN) – now no longer broadcast as John Cargher has died – Late night jazz (ABC FM), LPs and CDs have allowed me to build an interesting and wide-ranging collection. This has all been digitized and plays back throughout the house. I have no specialist knowledge, cannot read music and play no instrument but listening brings great pleasure and, in the Shostakovich’s ‘Jewish Poetry’, excitement. In the 1960-90s I went to concerts and opera and often watched great performances by great musicians. There are always interesting stories behind most compositions whether it be Mozart or Miles Davis and a great moment was discovering Monteverdi’s grave in Venice.

My other long-term interest has been writing and now that I have the time, have been word-processing essays on matters I consider important. Elsewhere I have written on discovering English, climate change, Anzac Day, food miles, weddings, reading and cooking. I have creative energy to burn; there is English to learn and a writing style to develop. Feedback is that I over-quote from my sources; my own views should be more prominent; is my writing a ‘journal’ or a ‘critique’? ‘Over-quoting’ is an interesting criticism. Why synthesize someone else’s often excellent writing? I am, after all, not writing my doctoral thesis but bringing together different views on the current topic. With Anzac myth or spirit I came to wanting to understand the psychology of crowd events, militarism and academic nastiness, and concluded that we need to know more about this iconic Australian holiday.  Is Anzac Day any different to the Roman triumphs other than it being a celebration of a defeat? To not quote the relevant texts leaves a hole in my discourse. Is the feedback coming from traditional responses to different styles? The people critiquing my writing have much experience in academic English as well as the novel; poetry, etcetera and a different style may be chafing.

I discussed aging with my wife and we concluded that our bodies were deteriorating but ‘inside’ we both felt about 40. We’ve experienced the ‘vicissitudes of life’, the children are mature, we enjoy each other’s company, and there are different limits to what we want to do. We can expect teeth to fall out, less mobility, skin problems, loss of memory but our current feeling is, so what? We are alive and enjoying being alive. Gough’s rage is foreign to our life style. What does he do in his office that doesn’t give him mature, intellectual satisfaction?