Dorothy Rowe

Everyone fears aging. Now that life expectancy in the developed world is securely three score and ten, fear of imminent death has receded and it has been replaced by a dread of getting old.

While our definition of 'old' is dependent on the age we have reached - in out 20's we worry about turning 30, in out 30's we worry about turning 40 , in our 50's we worry about turning 60 and becoming an old age pensioner or 'senior citizen' - we all share a horror of becoming one of those forgetful, incapacitated, ludicrous figures which our parents, aunts, uncles, once so young and vigorous, may have become. What is more we let our fear of aging spoil our present life.

Dorothy Rowe has talked to people aged from five to ninety five about how they view aging, time and death. She has listened to people from societies where the old are revered and respected as well as people from societies like our own, where they are not., She finds that our fear of ageing far outweighs the real difficulties, most of which could be ameliorated if we were more sensible.

But because of mistreatment of children and the legacy of misunderstandings that we create, the young hate and fear the old and the old fear and envy the young. Moreover, as we advance through our life, we find that the mistakes that made in our youth return to haunt us.

However, we can change and, in this warm, important and much needed book, Dorothy Rowe points us towards a new and positive, welcoming of the future.

A Reader writes...
re: Dorothy Rowe - Time On Our Side

I have just read your book "Time on our side" and I am writing to say that of the many thousands of books that I have read over the last forty-odd years, I have gained more insight into so many things from this one work. It has covered so many areas of concern, thought, contemplation and wonder that have troubled me as a thinking individual, and I am grateful to you for making me aware of so much of both myself and the rest of humankind. In 1992 I wrote a poem, and while written from the heart, I feel that it belongs to you.

Time? What is time? But a moment lived and gone
Which, swiftly passing, leaves but open sores
That time, still running, heals as it moves on
Yet leaves fine scars which lay, as unlocked doors
'til time, in time, doth open them again.
Thus, in so doing, time will take you back
For, tho' passed, it lets you feel the pain
That time is said to heal. Then, like a rack,
It stretches taut those feelings kept alive,
And so in torment leaves your life stripped bare.
Quickly now, with all intent you strive
To bury deep those thought you cannot share,
Lest time alone should give one second's grace,
And let you touch a hand, or see a face.

Tim Riding - September 2005