The dominant American understanding of aging can be understood by Becca Levy and
her colleagues which shows that when people are asked to describe old age, the majority of
responses are negative; words like frail, senile, helpless, or lonely far outweigh positive ones
such as wise, capable, or family-oriented. In their study of over 700 elders, only 17% of the traits
generated were positive, compared with 60% that were negative. [1]
     When I picture older people in my mind, images of my grandparents, my grand uncles
and aunts, as well as any older people who hold significant importance in my life appear.
Memories of my grand uncle and his buddies gathering to drink beer and water color on the coast

of Malaga, running into my grandpa having a heated argument with one of his past colleagues at
a cafe in Mar del Plata, or even my grandmother smoking on the porch with her girlfriends
roaring with laughter of stories of mischief from their past. For me, hearing the term “older
people” sparks all of these vivid memories which I get to relive in my mind. Having this
association of age with the liveliness and wisdom of those that I love gives me peace and
comfort. Instead of fearing age, whether it be aging myself or seeing my parents age, I get a
feeling of warmth. Every new wrinkle I see in my dads forehead resembles those I would count
on my grandfathers when I was little. My grandfather would tell me that each wrinkle resembled
a new era of his life, using them as a timeline guiding me through the stories of his biography.
He would start with one wrinkle and tell me about when he moved to Buenos Aires and met my
grandmother, then he would move onto when and where he had each of his children, to the years
he spent working in Qatar, and finally onto becoming a grandfather. How could I not see
wrinkles as anything short of beautiful?