I Admire Biden—It's Not His Fault He Fell Short in the Presidential Debate

It isn't Joe Biden's fault that he missed the mark in the June 27th Presidential Debate. I know from my own experience aging sneaks up on you.

Four years ago I stopped sleeping through the night. One week I was climbing into bed, easily knocking out at least nine hours, rarely getting up even to go to the bathroom. Then one day I climbed into bed at my usual time and did not fall asleep for hours.

Something had gone wrong and must be corrected to get me back to my true self, I thought. I drank warm milk. I exercised. I meditated. I subscribed to an insomnia app. I did everything but sleep.

This is aging: a sudden and permanent farewell to the person we had grown to know as ourselves, and a surprise introduction to a stranger whose only similarity to us is our name and social security number.

If we are lucky, we make friends with that stranger and understand that sleep is not a characteristic of this new person, nor vigorous exercise, nor fatty food. Ok, well, nice to meet you. But then one day that friend bails out of the relationship and sends in a new stranger. No goodbye, no thanks for the good times, just gone.

New Friend is way less fun. New Friend needs a nap. New Friend doesn't like road trips. New Friend forgets she turned the beans on high.

It is dizzying and confusing and keeps a person on guard, afraid to get too far from home or swim in the deep end of the pool for fear the next stranger might suddenly show up and turn out to be a drowner.

Could this be why old people used to be depicted rocking on their front porches? They were clinging to the arms of that chair like they were holding on to the lap bar of a roller coaster. Life moves quickly after you reach the age of seventy but most of the action is behind you, sneaking along, taking aim at your knee joints.

As I get older, I also notice a lot of people expect more of me than I am inclined to do. For example, my grown son didn't understand why I wouldn't move in and tend to his family so he could take his wife on a cruise. "Mom," he said, "you raised a house full of kids and half the kids in the neighborhood, too. How can it be you are not up to the task of taking care of my three children for five days?"

That woman left town, I told him. I would drag her back by the hair if I knew where to find her. She raised my kids, stole my patience, and then disappeared, leaving me without the cunning to talk a ten-year-old boy into taking a shower or a fourteen-year-old girl into not wearing a halter top to school.

Even if my son came back and rescued me after three days I would need another three days of silence and gardening at my own house to recover.

On the other hand, sometimes people are surprised when I do more than they expect. It is so gratifying to give a triumphant look to the doubting bystanders and hit the tape at the finish line.

Joe Biden may still be running his own victory lap from four years ago when so many people cautioned that he was too old to be president. They were wrong. Not only has he given us four years of strong leadership, he has earned the deep admiration of many people over 70 by just nailing jetlag. The man flew around the world and then showed up for a full day's work the next morning, every single time. Astronauts are asking him for travel tips.

A couple summers ago my grandkids were at the river, climbing to the top of a very high rock and challenging each other to jump into the deep water. I knew the moment would come, and it did, when they turned their focus on me.
"Grandma, jump off the rock!"

They were teasing, but I assessed the situation and realized climbing hand-over-hand up the rock was going to be the hardest part. I decided to give it a go, knowing that if I did get to the top, rolling back down would be a lot worse than jumping into the water.

On the way up from the sandy river bottom, kicking madly and fighting my way to the surface for air, I also decided I probably shouldn't have done either of it, climbed, or jumped.

But when I broke through, I got some great applause. I took my bows that day but I secretly knew I should never try that again. This is the stage of life when we can be bold and show off a little when we feel inspired, but then we must take our victory and begin looking for a laurel to rest on, and for most of us that literally means to rest on.

Don't let anyone take the past four years from you, Joe. You didn't know the man who walked out on that stage last week. He was a stranger, the blind date Aging sent you to replace last month's self, the Commander in Chief. Don't look for your old friend under the bed. Take your bow and go home proudly. But stay out of the deep end of the pool.

Joan Nuxoll is a freelance writer who lives at the University of MIchigan in Ann Arbor, Michigan where she works her day job as a House Mother for Alpha Delta Pi Sorority.

All views expressed are the author's own.

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