The passing of Robert Byrd at 92 -- having represented West Virginia in the Senate for a stunning half-century plus -- turns the mind to that age-old obsession of aging.
Byrd was not the sole member of the Senate geriatrics crowd (though he was the sole member to quote Shakespeare frequently, and frequently in context and accurately). In fact, Bob Byrd could have strolled across the Senate floor saying to many colleagues, "You and I are past our dancing days" (Romeo & Juliet).
Like in all aspects of life, the Bard offered keen insights into death. He practically had to, since so many of his finest characters die at the close of his tragedies. Frequently, the curtain falls across a stage strewn with dead bodies (which arise for curtain call, a minute later).
Shakespeare appreciated how much realizing the end of life affects life. This is most pronounced in Hamlet.
And the Bard gleaned how the aging process can bring pathos and sadness. This is most pronounced in Falstaff, treated both affectionately and mockingly in Henry IVth, Parts I and II, and Merry Wives of Windsor. At times, the ribald character is teased for both his size and age: "Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly?"
More pointedly, if not cruelly, Falstaff is poked: "Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity?"(Henry IV, Part II).
Yet unlike today's glitzy magazines and television ads, Shakespeare sensed the blessings coming with age. Even Cleopatra, who hardly qualified for the AARP in her late thirties, realized that judgment expands with years. She could "recall my] salad days, when I was green in judgment" (Antony and Cleopatra).
Some Shakespearean characters even embrace aging: "With mirth and laughter, let old wrinkles come!" (Merchant of Venice). For with age comes, or should come, respect: "His silver hairs will purchase him a good opinion" says a youngish conspirator in Julius Caesar. He figures that the public would say that the silver haired Senator's "judgment ruled our hands" while "our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, but all be buried in his gravity."
Best of all, Shakespeare presents beautiful criteria for evaluating success in aging, and thus in living. He has Macbeth, of all people, lament that he will have none of "that which should accompany old age -- as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends!"
That's as good a checklist of "a life worth living" as I've come across.
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