Liberal frontbencher Tony Abbott let slip a new ambition when Sarah Murdoch launched his book...BATTLELINES on July 29. Click for video
One of the suggestions he had, which he wrote and consequently talked about, was that the retirement age should be reconsidered and no one should have to leave work in their 60s, but stay on until at least 70. Growing old is not that much fun, but, as the old cliche goes, it's better than the alternative. I've been to three funerals in the past month and they were a nasty dose of reality, I can tell you.
At my age -- 66, clickety-click -- both my grandmothers were in an old-age home, a fate in many ways worse than death.
I heard a sermon recently by a Polish priest who recounted how Mother Teresa visited a retirement village, as the euphemism goes, when she was in Europe.
She said the food was good, the care was there, the place was clean and well looked after. There was one thing missing, however; no one smiled. She asked one of the nurses why the patients were so sad and she said they felt abandoned and spent most of the day staring at the door, hoping it would open and one of their children would walk in. But it never happened.
When you think about it, ours is the first generation of women that has worked en masse and now we're enjoying our freedom and our right to make decisions for ourselves. I've taken up boxing without having to get permission to do so; a friend of mine who is 70 has taken off for a week's skiing; we all hate it when we go to the cinema or catch a bus and train and are asked whether we have an old-age pass.
I glare at bus drivers and I defy those well-mannered youngsters -- admittedly thin on the ground -- who leap to their feet when the seats are full. I feel I can strap-hang with the best of them.
I have to acknowledge most of us avoid mirrors as far as is possible, although you have to be a bit careful, especially if you are a woman and tend to use mascara. There's no bigger giveaway of ageing than to arrive at the office and see big black blodges on your eyelids because you can't put the bloody stuff on while wearing glasses.
In our time we weren't welcomed into the office until we had proved we could take the pace. These were the days when you worked full time or not at all. There was no such thing as maternity leave or a three-day week. These were the "if you can't take the heat get out of the kitchen" days, but in many ways it worked to everyone's advantage; or at least it seemed so to me.
Abbott couldn't have been disappointed at the publicity Battlelines and he enjoyed, and publisher Melbourne University Press is pretty confident the book it will be a bestseller, thus standing on its head the speculation that Liberal politicians don't draw readers.
Even those who can't stand the sight of the man or bear to hear about his beliefs would have to admit he hasn't had a boring life. He's still young, of course, and is an impressive physical example of a man. Both my daughters -- in their 30s and happily married -- call him "that spunk!" Honest. [rc]
fraserj@theaustralian.com.au
Copyright 2009 News Limited
August 8, 2009
AUSTRALIA: Ageing around the edges
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SYDNEY, NSW / The Australian / Lifestyle / August 8, 2009
LAST LOOK
By Jane Fraser
IT would be good to hear that Tony Abbott will one day be prime minister, but I fear he may not have the chance; he's too honest to be a successful head politician.
But I hope I'm wrong. There were many in the eclectic crowd at the launch of his book Battlelines a couple of weeks ago who seem to agree with me thoroughly. He's either incapable of telling a porky or he's the most consummate actor in the country.
Liberal frontbencher Tony Abbott let slip a new ambition when Sarah Murdoch launched his book...BATTLELINES on July 29. Click for video
One of the suggestions he had, which he wrote and consequently talked about, was that the retirement age should be reconsidered and no one should have to leave work in their 60s, but stay on until at least 70. Growing old is not that much fun, but, as the old cliche goes, it's better than the alternative. I've been to three funerals in the past month and they were a nasty dose of reality, I can tell you.
At my age -- 66, clickety-click -- both my grandmothers were in an old-age home, a fate in many ways worse than death.
I heard a sermon recently by a Polish priest who recounted how Mother Teresa visited a retirement village, as the euphemism goes, when she was in Europe.
She said the food was good, the care was there, the place was clean and well looked after. There was one thing missing, however; no one smiled. She asked one of the nurses why the patients were so sad and she said they felt abandoned and spent most of the day staring at the door, hoping it would open and one of their children would walk in. But it never happened.
When you think about it, ours is the first generation of women that has worked en masse and now we're enjoying our freedom and our right to make decisions for ourselves. I've taken up boxing without having to get permission to do so; a friend of mine who is 70 has taken off for a week's skiing; we all hate it when we go to the cinema or catch a bus and train and are asked whether we have an old-age pass.
I glare at bus drivers and I defy those well-mannered youngsters -- admittedly thin on the ground -- who leap to their feet when the seats are full. I feel I can strap-hang with the best of them.
I have to acknowledge most of us avoid mirrors as far as is possible, although you have to be a bit careful, especially if you are a woman and tend to use mascara. There's no bigger giveaway of ageing than to arrive at the office and see big black blodges on your eyelids because you can't put the bloody stuff on while wearing glasses.
In our time we weren't welcomed into the office until we had proved we could take the pace. These were the days when you worked full time or not at all. There was no such thing as maternity leave or a three-day week. These were the "if you can't take the heat get out of the kitchen" days, but in many ways it worked to everyone's advantage; or at least it seemed so to me.
Abbott couldn't have been disappointed at the publicity Battlelines and he enjoyed, and publisher Melbourne University Press is pretty confident the book it will be a bestseller, thus standing on its head the speculation that Liberal politicians don't draw readers.
Even those who can't stand the sight of the man or bear to hear about his beliefs would have to admit he hasn't had a boring life. He's still young, of course, and is an impressive physical example of a man. Both my daughters -- in their 30s and happily married -- call him "that spunk!" Honest. [rc]
fraserj@theaustralian.com.au
Copyright 2009 News Limited
Liberal frontbencher Tony Abbott let slip a new ambition when Sarah Murdoch launched his book...BATTLELINES on July 29. Click for video
One of the suggestions he had, which he wrote and consequently talked about, was that the retirement age should be reconsidered and no one should have to leave work in their 60s, but stay on until at least 70. Growing old is not that much fun, but, as the old cliche goes, it's better than the alternative. I've been to three funerals in the past month and they were a nasty dose of reality, I can tell you.
At my age -- 66, clickety-click -- both my grandmothers were in an old-age home, a fate in many ways worse than death.
I heard a sermon recently by a Polish priest who recounted how Mother Teresa visited a retirement village, as the euphemism goes, when she was in Europe.
She said the food was good, the care was there, the place was clean and well looked after. There was one thing missing, however; no one smiled. She asked one of the nurses why the patients were so sad and she said they felt abandoned and spent most of the day staring at the door, hoping it would open and one of their children would walk in. But it never happened.
When you think about it, ours is the first generation of women that has worked en masse and now we're enjoying our freedom and our right to make decisions for ourselves. I've taken up boxing without having to get permission to do so; a friend of mine who is 70 has taken off for a week's skiing; we all hate it when we go to the cinema or catch a bus and train and are asked whether we have an old-age pass.
I glare at bus drivers and I defy those well-mannered youngsters -- admittedly thin on the ground -- who leap to their feet when the seats are full. I feel I can strap-hang with the best of them.
I have to acknowledge most of us avoid mirrors as far as is possible, although you have to be a bit careful, especially if you are a woman and tend to use mascara. There's no bigger giveaway of ageing than to arrive at the office and see big black blodges on your eyelids because you can't put the bloody stuff on while wearing glasses.
In our time we weren't welcomed into the office until we had proved we could take the pace. These were the days when you worked full time or not at all. There was no such thing as maternity leave or a three-day week. These were the "if you can't take the heat get out of the kitchen" days, but in many ways it worked to everyone's advantage; or at least it seemed so to me.
Abbott couldn't have been disappointed at the publicity Battlelines and he enjoyed, and publisher Melbourne University Press is pretty confident the book it will be a bestseller, thus standing on its head the speculation that Liberal politicians don't draw readers.
Even those who can't stand the sight of the man or bear to hear about his beliefs would have to admit he hasn't had a boring life. He's still young, of course, and is an impressive physical example of a man. Both my daughters -- in their 30s and happily married -- call him "that spunk!" Honest. [rc]
fraserj@theaustralian.com.au
Copyright 2009 News Limited
