There was striking scene described by Daniel Klein in his marvelous book Travels with Epicurus. And it involved 4 old men.
On another day on a terrace overlooking the Aegean Sea . The 4 friends were enjoying the beautiful warm day and each other. They were “chatting amiably.” But then, something happened.
“Then quite abruptly, they all go quiet. To a man, they are all gazing up at the top of the stone stairs that lead down from the coast path and past the taverna’s terrace. A young woman has appeared there and the wind is pressing against her blouse and skirt and her spending voluptuous body.”
Now we know why all the old men are paying so much attention. They may be old but can still appreciate such beauty. Klein continues,
“For a moment, she pauses there, perhaps enjoying the warm breeze, but more likely enjoying the effect she is having on the men looking up at her—her personal sirókos effect, indulgence…The young woman is named Elena. She is nineteen years and is a classic Greek beauty with jet-black hair; clear, light olive skin; and large dark, flashing eyes…The old men unabashedly keep their eyes on Elena as she and her grandmother draw near to where they are sitting. When Elena and the old woman are directly in front of them, all the men rise slightly from their chairs and greet them. While saying” “Good Day,” Tasso [one of the men] offers an elegant bow from his none-too supple waist. It is clearly a bow of admiration and gratitude for Elena’s beauty.”
The men settle down and start talking about the beautiful women they have known. These are not dreams. These are memories. The memories of old men. Old men can do that. That is what they have.
The men are not dirty old men. They are appreciative and wistful. They still appreciate beautiful women as they did when they were young. They don’t have to be voluptuous either. They know that this is all there is to it and they appreciate her. And they appreciate themselves. They are old. They know that. They are not angry about that. They are wistful, as I said, but accepting.
They can still appreciate the beauty of old women too. And even—believe it or not—old men. Beauty is by no mans confined to the young. At least so I believe, being an old man myself. “Truth is beauty and beauty is truth,” as John Keats said. But it is not just the beauty of youth. Old age too can be beautiful. Old men and old women no longer look like they did in the spring time of their lives, but what they have is still real too. Different but real.
No point in striving for what is gone. That is what counts. Enjoy what you can. It is holy too.

