By Jon Berry
When I grow up, I want to be Cedar Walton, Jimmy Cobb, or Buster Williams. Not literally, of course. For one, I’m already a grown-up. Second, I don’t have their talent. And, if I did, it still would take six or seven decades to catch up with Walton, 76, Cobb, 81, and Williams, 67, three legends of American jazz.
I recently caught the first set of their five-night run in New York with saxophonist Javon Jackson (a mere stripling at age 44). Over 90 minutes, the group unspooled a vision of aging that was more real – and more appealing – than any that I see in contemporary media or marketing.
What could have been a nostalgic tour through time – Cobb and Walton played drums and piano, respectively, on two of the most influential jazz records of all time, Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue and John Coltrane’s Giant Steps – instead became a larger lesson.
Playing with force, wit, tenderness, and craft, ranging from hard bop to soft standards, all the while with the intuitive, group sixth-sense of great jazz musicians, they showed that it’s possible to grow into aging, and keep growing, no matter your age.
With the world aging, we need more such visions of authentic aging. According to the United Nations, the median age of the world’s population will rise from 27 years old in 2000 to 38 in 2050; in more developed countries, it will go from 37 to 46. By midcentury, 4 in 10 of the UK’s population will be over 60. In Spain, it will be close to half. The U.S. population over age 65 is expected to double to 87 million people (more than the combined population of the top 10 U.S. metro areas).
And yet, the language and imagery around aging is stuck in clichés of the past. We are to “age gracefully” ($5 to anyone who can convince me of what that really means) or “fight aging.” “Take a walk at the mall.” “Find a hobby.” “Get the early-bird specials.” “Update your estate plan.” Depressing.
There’s a richness out there that, with few exceptions (notably AARP and its publications), is not being captured. It’s not just that people are doing incredible things later in life – though there is that. Yohihisa Hosaka last year broke the 60-plus world marathon record, running the 26.2 mile course of the Beppu-Oit Mainichi Marathon in 2 hours 36 minutes. I don’t know what’s more eye-opening, his new record or the old one, which was only 2 minutes slower. Or Tao, my friend Alan’s yoga teacher, who is still teaching yoga in her mid-90s; she’s also a champion ballroom dancer.
More impressive than the feats, though, is their day-in, day-out immersion in life. Hosaka’s 18-mile training runs. Tao’s daily yoga practice. Cedar Walton sitting down to the piano, which “does everything but say, ‘please come and play me,’” he confided last year to the New York Times. Imagine all they’ve seen, stored, retained.
We’re not, as a society, good at unlocking that treasure. We can’t even agree on definitions – a recent Roper Reports U.S. study shows there’s almost a 20-year gap between where 18-29 year olds (61) and people 60 and older (80) say old age begins. Demographics will change that. The oldsters will become elders – venerated for their experience and insights, and affirmed for their humanness, including quirks and imperfections. Some smart marketer or media person will figure that out and point the way. Until then, check out Cedar Walton, Jimmy Cobb, Buster Williams – or any of the other great jazz musicians who are still growing into their craft, and showing us all how to grow into aging.