Aging Like Fine Vinegar

I used to be aging like fine wine, but now it’s more like vinegar. 

I ordered some extraordinary vinegar that I saw advertised online the other day. Chocolate balsamic vinegar. Unbelievable. Taste Orgasms, as a college friend of mine used to say. That is description enough, yes?

I have always loved vinegar. I put that stuff on everything, almost.

But vinegar that is formed from wine can sometimes have a bad reputation. It makes us think of spoiled wine. Of wine that is too old. Past its prime. Sour. Not useful anymore. Even the word vinegar comes from the French “vin aigre” or sour wine. 

That got me thinking. Wine certainly has its place. But maybe we can begin to appreciate vinegar and its own qualities and gifts. It has fermented into an older, perhaps deeper, version of itself. Much like we elders have our own qualities and gifts to share that have taken a lifetime to form. 

I can appreciate grapes and enjoy them. They are sweet and plump and full of juice. Youth.

I can appreciate wine and enjoy that. Let the taste linger in my mouth. Enjoy the qualities of it, the fragrance, the pleasant feeling that it can bring with it. Adulthood and midlife. 

And now I can appreciate vinegar and enjoy that more than I ever thought possible. Aging into elderhood. 

Vinegar has its own qualities. Acidic. Some varieties are sourer. Some sweeter. Some pungent. So many varieties of vinegar. Balsamic, red wine, white, cider, sherry, rice, malt, to name a few. 

Some vinegar can even be used as a cleaner. A green product that can be used for some household chores, like removing soap scum. 

Vinegar can brighten the flavor of a food. It can change the texture of a food, like tenderizing meat. It can be used to pickle food.

So, let me sing the praises of vinegar. Tart. A lovely addition to a meal. Fresh bread dipped in good olive oil and vinegar can be meal enough for me. A delight. Food of the gods. 

Does any of this feel like it may resonate with you? I like to think that we, as elders, add something to all that we become part of. That we have our own unique gifts to bring to the table. That we have aged into something quite special. 

Did you know that certain vinegars, like balsamic, can be left to ferment for up to 25 years? Ah, the good things that aging can bring, yes? 

Am I sour sometimes? You bet! With good reason, mostly. I am reclaiming my right to be sour after a lifetime of sometimes trying to always be sweet and nice. I don’t mean that I want to be sour in a way that intentionally hurts anyone. Just sour in a way that just claims the right to feel however I feel and to have that be ok. 

No, we don’t need to call it a caricature of being a cranky old person. It is merely someone who may have had enough right then and there and is claiming the right to stop whatever it is that is triggering them. The right to say no more. The right to say I have had enough. The right to say you don’t get to say or do that to me. The right to realize that saying no is ok. And that no is a complete sentence all by itself. No.

I may not always be appreciated for what I bring to the table. Yet I can surprise with an unexpected pleasure added to a fine meal, conversation, or interaction,

Am I older and past my prime? That depends on how you define prime. No longer of childbearing age? Yes, that ship has sailed. Sexual object? No, not anymore. And might I add that some relief comes with that. Blessings sometimes come in disguise. 

Am I past my productive years? In terms of the usual workplace, yes, I am retired. Thank God. But am I seen as no longer productive? That depends on how you define productive. If defined as no longer contributing to the workforce in a particular organization then no, I am no longer productive in that way. But can I still be productive in terms of producing something of quality? I hope so. My writing, my painting …I do these mainly for me. And I like to think that they bring some value to a few others at times. 

I volunteer with animals because I love that. And that is reason enough. I contribute to that organization and its purpose. 

I am told at times that I should go and volunteer at some social service agency and put my experience to good use. The fact is that I do contribute, with donations, and that is enough for right now.

Did I tell you that my career was as a social worker? I am done, because I already gave at the office and have had enough of that kind of direct contact at this time. And that is ok. 

I like to think that I am like a good vinegar. Something that is a part of a kitchen/home, perhaps not thought of or celebrated as much as wine may be, but still so lovely and important to the meal. A nice addition. Something that adds depth, flavor, interest, spice, delight, and sometimes pungency. 

Being a senior, like vinegar, is something that can perhaps brighten something. Or tenderize a moment. Or clean away scum built up from a lifetime of trying to please and not set strong enough boundaries.

Yes, it is also true that too much vinegar might not be a good thing. 

Isn’t that true of everything? As I age, I find that everything has a time limit for me. I like social interaction, until it is time for me to go home and replenish my internal reserves. Introvert, ambivert, with an occasional appearance by extrovert. They are all part of me. And they are all ok whenever they make an appearance. 

Its great to add vinegar, but in the right quantity. To enhance, but not overwhelm. To be ok with parting and knowing what the right quantity of something, or someone, is, at that moment. We can know when enough is enough and when the amount is just right. When it is time to be with oneself in solitude again. 

And as to all the different varieties of vinegar. Are we not like that, we elders? We are different from each other, although very much a part of the tribe of elders. Similarities yes. And also differences to those that take the time to see, hear, and appreciate us. 

What might be my individual variety of vinegar that helps define me? 

I am a first generation elder. Born of immigrant parents. Sicilian. Raised with fine food and traditions of old. Learning to speak the language of the culture of my parents and the culture into which I was born and grew up in. Sometimes successfully straddling the two. Sometimes not so well.

I grew up during the feminist bra-burning times, although that practice never really appealed to me. My girls always needed support, I felt. That’s ok, I can still encourage others in their own particular form of rebellion.

 I fought to go to college. I fought to stay in this country, that I loved dearly, rather than move to my parents’ native home. And now at times I am heartbroken when I see the deep divisions in our beloved country. We are all Americans. We can all trace ourselves back to other cultures, except the indigenous people. We are blended with the purpose of rebellion fighting for the freedom to be oneself. 

I am an elder who chooses to live alone, while I still can, and am grateful. I have been married and am glad that I was. But I never married again. And that’s ok. I had lessons to learn about being alone, being with myself. And appreciating that, finally finding my voice.

These are the types of vinegar that I relate to and things that have contributed to my own fermentation into my authentic self. We each have our own version, our own story. What is yours? 

Has vinegar found its time? Have I? 

I think so, yes. I am so grateful to have reached the time in life to be able to be all of who I am, and know that there are some others who may appreciate me, and others who may not. And that’s ok. 

Aging like fine vinegar? Absolutely.