Compete to see which lasts longer

The brain usually gives up first
Leaving the heart pounding away
At that door, unable
Unwilling to understand
That all else has passed the line

David Williams “The Finishing Line”, 2016, In ‘A Decade of Transition, The Collected Poems of David Williams, 2004-2014’.

This has nothing to do with so-called “anti-ageing” – and I cannot find a decent piece of literature that addresses that bizarre concept. More than one eminent person, including scientists, physicians and surgeons, have tarnished reputations by endorsing anti-ageing philosophies and products, especially when they approach old age themselves. An unfortunate example applied to Christiaan Barnard, the South African cardiac surgeon who carried out the world’s first human heart transplant in 1967 (more of which later in the section on transplantation) and then invested heavily and promoted a worthless anti-ageing cream, once devastating rheumatoid arthritis forced him into retirement.

We can find words and verses that reflect the acceptance of natural ageing:

The clocks and calendars tell me
That many years have gone by
Since I saw my first snow at the age of three
As we moved back to Wales with a beautiful sigh
The war over, we thought we were all free
But not to know that memories will fly

I remember clearly the passions of the young
And of learning, the oval ball and music of the valleys
Those are never forgotten, but are sung
In my heart, rehearsed daily

I do, sometimes, betray a name or place
But with thousands of those stored in grey matter
I can usually conjure an answer to save face
As the maturing wine replenishes the decanter

Live each moment, and park it someplace
Not to forget but not to rely on
A goal you scored, a mountain climbed so rare
Awards here and there, pride transiently upon
You settles and then makes your cupboard bare
Moving forward, memories silently gone

So, after more than my three score years and ten
I challenge my brain to remember when
I last walked that country glen
Singing John Peel do you not ken
Following the hunt over field and fen
Tickling the trout in the River Ithon