6 THENEWYORKER,NOVEMBER25, 2019
we can’t tell the truth about aging.”
Maybe it’s because aging has no single
truth to tell. After teaching develop-
mental psychology for nearly four de-
cades, I hold in high regard the insights
of Erik Erikson, a brilliant neo-Freud-
ian thinker from the past century. He
posited that as we move into our later
years we can choose to either embrace
all that was positive in our lives or, con-
versely, wallow in feelings of failure for
all that we didn’t accomplish. Erikson
presents these polarities as two ends of
a continuum, “Integrity vs. Despair.” As
we grow older, we must decide which
word will better represent our experi-
ence of life.
Emery J. Cummins
San Diego, Calif.
1
READINGTHEECONOMISTWriting as a socialist who has never-
theless enjoyed reading The Economist
for fifty years, I thought that Pankaj
Mishra’s critique of the paper was not
incorrect, though he failed to mention
some of its admirable aspects (Books,
November 11th). Yes, the editors parade
their “liberalism” in editorials, but these
are easily skipped. The bulk of each
issue is filled with objective, exemplary
reportage from places never mentioned
in most news magazines. Even more
distinctively, The Economist’s correspon-
dents write with wit and humor.
In these divisive times, it is import-
ant to remember that reading The Econ-
omist does not amount to incessant in-
doctrination—on the contrary, one is
making oneself more informed about
the world through a different lens, an
experience that is both enjoyable and
educational. How often do you associ-
ate those words with economics?
Jack Winkler
London, Englandbe very different from those of people
in their late eighties and beyond. Even
without the hardships caused by phys-
ical or mental deterioration, very old
age can bring a staggering amount of
loss: the deaths of a beloved spouse, sib-
lings, friends, or pets; a move from the
home where one has lived for decades;
and the loss of mobility, independence,
and, at times, the ability to take care of
one’s basic needs. Many of my clients
are full of grief, sadness, and, sometimes,
rage at these changes. The very elderly
deserve our compassion and under-
standing, and their stories should in-
spire the young to begin preparing early
for long lives. How? Create a support
network of loving people living close
by. Save money, as quality care is ex-
tremely expensive. Cultivate awareness
and savor every experience, as life flashes
by in a moment.
Pamela Kuras
Gloucester, Mass.Having worked on a manuscript about
my father’s life for the past three years,
I was interested in Krystal’s assertion
that Ronald Blythe “must be one of the
few living writers to have spoken to the
last Victorians.” My sisters and I were
lucky to have had several decades in
which to speak with a Victorian. Our
father, Jon Theodor Jensen, was born
in Copenhagen in 1888, on the cusp of
the technological and cultural changes
that have led to our modern world. It
sometimes feels to me that my father
and his contemporaries were the last
generation to live their lives with a sense
of hope in human progress, but he didn’t
always feel that way himself. One eve-
ning in our back yard, in 1960, as he
and I talked about how the world might
end, he reaffirmed my sense that my
sisters and I were fortunate not to have
witnessed, as he did, the chaos and de-
struction wrought by the beginning of
the nuclear age.
Gail Jensen Sanford
Morro Bay, Calif.The online title of Krystal’s piece pro-
poses that his essay might explain “whyTHE MAIL
PERSPECTIVES ONAGING
Arthur Krystal’s meditation on the
pains and opportunities of growing
older was thoughtful and comprehen-
sive, but, while reading, all I could
think of was how many elderly peo-
ple buck the trends that he writes about
(A Critic at Large, November 4th).
Picasso, for example, painted until his
death, at the age of ninety-one, and his
late work was pretty good. Although
infirmity is unwelcome, and, for many
of us, likely inevitable, we should keep
aiming to get the most out of life—or
die trying. I’m a septuagenarian, and I
still go skydiving with my peers. When
asked why I continue to do so, I say
that I’m fairly healthy and am search-
ing for the meaning of life—like many
of us are, at all ages. Let’s not over-
think the aging process.
Doug Garr
New York City
Like The New Yorker, I was born in 1925,
meaning we are both in our nineties.
This qualifies me, I hope, to comment
on Krystal’s article, which examines
manifold approaches to growing old.
However, nowhere did I see a reference
to what I believe to be the most effec-
tive one. My mother lived from 1901 to
2001, and I’m convinced that her long
life stemmed from her sense of humor.
Except for housework and gardening,
Mother never exercised a day in her life.
At about the age of ninety-seven, she
was taken to a senior exercise class, and
when they wheeled her back I asked
her how it went. “I don’t know,” she
said. “Most of us slept through it.”
Laughter, it seems, is still the best med-
icine, and, as long as I can laugh, my
life remains worth living.
Vivian Douglas Smith
Falls Church, Va.
Krystal, at the end of his piece, observes
that quality of life can decline as one
ages. I have worked with the elderly in
palliative and hospice care for nine years,
and I have seen that the concerns and
capabilities of a seventy-year-old can
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