Toronto, April 5, 2026
Risk
Two things we know about old age and health. First, when you are old bad things are more likely to happen to your already compromised body. Second, the older you are, the worse the consequences of bad health may be. Nonetheless, needs must, we run risks, whatever we do, wherever we are. Even being in bed can be dangerous. I once burnt my leg on a hot water bottle.
Today, I’m not running the risks of staying in bed. I’m getting up, getting dressed, and going for a brisk walk. But wait... Winter has only just gone, and the sidewalks may still be icy. It would be easy to slip and fall, and that’s dangerous for old people—we all know what can happen, you break a hip, go to hospital, get pneumonia... And there’s those food delivery guys whizzing about on their fast and silent e-bikes, often on the sidewalk. If a food delivery guy on an e-bike hits you, it’s sayonara (さようなら). But, I really do want to go for a walk, stretch my legs, and along the way I could pick up some custard tarts at the Portugese bakery. Custard tarts are worth the risk.
Should I go to that family wedding? Host-seeking pathogens will be everywhere. There’s bound to be viral-shedding people at the reception, boozing it up, behaving intemperately, laughing, shouting and coughing. Maybe I should go but wear a mask, which will no doubt prompt guffaws of contempt by inebriated machatunim. At a family party we gave not long ago, I insisted that one of our children who arrived sneezing and coughing go home immediately. This prompted a subsequent querulous call to Cynnie from the errant child, asking about my health (mental, presumably): “Is he alright?”
Old people often say, I’m retired now and the kids are grown up, so I’m free to travel. Is travel a good idea? It seems risky at an advanced age to run off to Central America or Africa. You might get caught up in some crazy war, or be mugged in the medina, that could happen to anybody at any age, but what happens if you’re old and get sick in a foreign country?
One of the world’s best teaching hospitals is right around the corner from where we live in Toronto, its emergency room ready to help those in distress (see Endgame #56). As well, I have assorted doctors, dentists, pharmacists, etc., with whom I have long-established relationships, standing by in case of need. Wouldn’t it be best to stay close to home? Before a recent trip to Costa Rica, covertly and sheepishly, I checked up on hospitals near where we were going to stay. Just in case.
Oh, and by the way, if you have a life-threatening heart attack on a plane mid-Atlantic, and the pilot diverts, it could be three hours to landing.
The same old-person concept of risk applies to other things, e.g., to financial matters (did you just buy crypto?) and relationships (hey, I couldn’t help notice that there’s a big age difference between you and your delightful new friend). In these cases, the risk is compounded by lack of recovery time. There’s not much time to bounce back from a bad decision.
A life-affirming approach when you are old is to discount risk heavily. What do you have to lose? A friend in his eighties told me he planned to sail solo in a small boat across the Atlantic. Sounds pretty risky, I told him, particularly for a creaky old duffer like you, you could be lost at sea. Yes, he said, I couldn’t have contemplated doing this twenty or thirty years ago, I had too much to lose then, a future full of possibilities and responsibilities, but now, why not? My friend’s risk calculus had changed as the years passed. The probability of bad outcomes had increased, but, as he saw it, the existential consequences were less.
My sailor friend had it right. In old age, the risks may be great, but the benefits from taking risks can be huge. The poet asks: “Do I dare/ Disturb the universe?” (T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”) The answer is: Disturb the universe, live your life, take the tide at the flood. Sometimes the flood comes late.
*****
Some comments on Endgame #128 (“The feral cats of Essaouira”)
Michael Mendelson pours a bucket of cold water on my celebration of the feral cats of Essaouira. He writes: “So, thought I, what is the effect of feral cat populations on the ecosystem of a city? Wow. Not what I expected. Here’s what AI had to say: ‘A large population of feral cats has a significant negative impact on urban ecosystems, primarily by acting as an invasive predator that disrupts local food chains, reduces biodiversity, and spreads diseases to both wildlife and humans. They are considered one of the most damaging invasive species on Earth, contributing to the deaths of billions of birds and small mammals annually in the United States alone.’ Now I feel like Scrooge at the Christmas party.” Thanks, Scrooge.
Rosemarie Terry writes from Sechelt, British Columbia: “My father had a cat, named felicitously, Cynthia. He often told the story of her sleeping on his arm and how he contemplated cutting off his sleeve to avoid disturbing her. I marvel that the son of an Anglican clergyman may have been versed in the feline philosophy of Islam.”
Sher Singh comments: “Two other cat-haven cities come to mind: London, England and Venice. In London, they thrive by the hundreds in and around roundabouts, hidden from public view unless you are a pedestrian walking by and not in a hurry. In Venetian residential neighbourhoods, entire colonies of cat townhouses have been built by their human neighbours who also take it upon themselves to feed then promptly every morning and evening. The only people who outdid modern cat-lovers were, of course, the ancient Egyptians ... by somewhat worshipping them.”
From the always perceptive Bob Rae: “Philip Slayton is a dear friend. I encourage you to read him. As he does in conversation, he makes you think, feel, laugh, and cry. This one made me miaow, which is unusual since I am allergic to cats, feral or otherwise.”
Michael Ondaatje sends a picture of his now-departed cat Jack:
Read Ondaatje’s beautiful poem “November,” about Jack.
The final word goes to my severest critic, Julian Porter: “As usual an erudite piece, but your padding it with sappy cat pictures is a bit much.”
*****
Bird notes
A few days ago, I met with my accountant in her 10th floor downtown Toronto office to talk about income taxes. I noticed a bird outside her window, looking in. Surveillance by the Canada Revenue Agency?
Love your octogenarian friend’s style and “disturb the universe “ will stay with me now, I’ll search for the poem. My mother would have said “plenty of time to worry after I die” and “don’t borrow trouble, it may all work out okay” but knit a water bottle cover just in case?
The cats! They’ve passed an edict here in Marrakech “don’t feed the stray cats”. We need to employ them: my internet has been sketchy for days again, disrupting my WFH life. I pay 5000dhs a month and the official Maroc Telecom reason: mice are eating the new underground fibre optic cables. When they say mice, they mean rats. Let’s save the birds and scare the rats out of town. I missed my calling, I really should be in local government, right?
You were inside my head with this one. However, I draw the line at soloing across the Atlantic.