When my husband and I walked into Endolyne Joe’s restaurant during its opening week, we did not realize what a metaphor it would become. As you probably know, this place was named for the fact that it marked the end of the streetcar line in our area.

My oldest sister once took this mode of transportation out to her special nursing assignment when during the Great Depression of the thirties she couldn’t find hospital employment. The only nursing jobs available were special duty assignments in homes where people could afford special nursing.

If my sister had lived long enough I would have called on her to help me when my husband needed monitoring round-the-clock before he died recently. But all my siblings are gone—all 10 of them. It took me a long time to face the fact that once young Georgie is now the matriarch of her family.

My son consoled me with this remark, “Mother, you can now tell all your family stories and there is no one living who can refute anything you say.”

Eventually it dawns upon every aging being that there is no returning to one’s youth. With the segregation by age and health condition in the urban community, not many younger people see the aging and dying process close at hand. For this reason the book "Tuesdays with Morrie" was a breakthrough for a dying man sharing this experience with a much younger man, the writer Mitch Albom, one of Morrie’s former college students. Rarely do older people in our culture pass on their wisdom to the young as Morrie was able to do.

My youngest daughter reminded me that dying is not reserved only for those in their aging years. In her work as nurse she cares for children, some of whom may die during her evening shift surrounded by their grieving parents, bringing tears to her own eyes as she drives home from work.

We certainly do not joke about a child who is near death. We cannot even associate youth with the dying process.

But we do associate aging with death. There is an abhorrence of the aging process for this reason. Most younger people in an age segregated society are not comfortable associating with the very old, and knowing that aging leads to the end of the line.

Recently, I was stunned by an email which included jokes involving the elderly and the old person’s tottering forgetfulness at times. I remind people that as an older standup comic I can laugh at myself but don’t let anyone else laugh at me and my aging. I learned first hand that real humor is laughing at one’s own condition in life. I do not have the right to hold up anyone else’s status in life to ridicule.

Personally, humor has softened my own realization that old age and its whittling away of strength and power is reminding me of what we call death—my eventual obituary in the local newspaper.

So, until I find my own obit there, I am planning each day as if it were my last day on earth. Hope everyone reading this is doing the same.

Georgie Bright Kunkel is a freelance writer and speaker who can be reached at gnkunkel@comcast.net or 206-935-8663.