Dick Van Dyke - Keep Moving: And Other Tips and Truths About Aging

Here we are, at the conclusion of this book. For those who didnt close it a page earlierand even for those who didthank you for purchasing this book and spending time with me. I hope you enjoyed it and go on your way with a smile, a spring in your step, and some positive thoughts about aging. Remember, if nothing else, keep movingand help other people do the same. Were all in this together.

To that point, I want to thank all the people who helped make the stories and events I wrote about possible, starting with my parents (good genes cannot be underestimated); my extended family of grandparents, aunts, and uncles; my brother, Jerry, who provided some very funny lines; my immediate family of my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren; and my friends and colleagues with whom Ive worked over the years, as I frequently think about the projects we worked on together and treasure the memories.

As I said in my 2012 memoir, I have lived a lucky life in and out of show business, lucky in so many ways, not the least of which is making it to eighty-nine years old in good health and with a sound mind, my sense of humor still intact, and someone special I wake up in the morning and look forward to spending the day with. This book would not have been possible without my wife, Arlene. Throughout the writing process she recalled stories, provided details, double-checked dates, rounded up photos, worked on corrections, and kept the writers writing. At each work session she also made sure we had plenty of hot coffee and fresh laughter.

Likewise, this book would not exist without Jeff Kolodny, my agent at Paradigm, and Dan Strone, my Literary Agent at Trident Media Group, who believed in and then convinced me that I had something to say on the subject of aging. At the outset I feared this would be a very short book, inasmuch as I thought I only had two words to say on the subjectKeep movinga pretty short book if you ask me. Fortunately I was wrong and Jeff and Dan were right. So thank you to both of them. Also, as I sit here at my dining room table, I am applauding Dans assistants Jackie Triggs and Chelsea Grogan, who obtained the permissions that made it possible for us to use the photos in this book, and I extend a noteno, make that enough notes for an entire songof appreciation to Amanda Murray, Editorial Director, and Georgina Levitt, Publishing Director, at Weinstein Books, and their team, including Patricia Mulcahy, Christine Marra, and Chris Roslan. And, of course, my thanks to Harvey Weinstein and The Weinstein Company family. I turned a manuscript over to them, and they turned it into a book. As a lifelong fan of magic tricks, I think thats a pretty good one.

And speaking of magic, I want to thank Todd Gold, my cowriter on this, our second book together, who spent the first six months of the year showing up at my house in the afternoon for a three oclock cup of coffee. As we sat at the dining room table where I am now, he would laughingly assure me that our wide-ranging conversations would result in a bookand not just any old book, but one that people would enjoy reading. I had my doubts. My brother even stared him down one day and flat-out said, What are you going to say? Everything about the subject has already been written. Todd was not phased. Lets keep moving, he said. Lets see what happens. Lo and behold, this happened.

And now Im going to see if my wife wants to go out to dinner.

Oh, one last reminder: never go down the stairs sideways.

There are many different ways to celebrate turning eighty-nine. On December 12, 2014, the night before my birthday, I was in the audience at the Malibu Civic Theater watching my wife, Arlene, belly dance. Shed been taking classes at Melanie Kareems Middle Eastern Dance School for a few years and was performing a solo in their end-of-the-year recital. She looked gorgeous in a silver top and black skirt that shimmered with every shake of her hips. I was mesmerized.

After about three minutes I couldnt sit still anymore. Arlene had cast a spell over me, and there in my seat, my body began to mimic Arlenes movements and move to the rhythmic Egyptian music until suddenly I was on my feet and heading toward the stage.

I did not want to detract from her big moment in the spotlight, but I couldnt help myself. I had spent six decades on the stage, on top of which I had practiced moves with her at home, and I saw no reason to stop what came naturally, even if I was entering my last year as an octogenarian. Why sit on the sidelines of life at any age, especially at mine?

I didnt. Standing beside Arlene, I shimmied and shook, my hips going right and then left, my arms and wrists undulating like long snakes. All of our rehearsing at home paid off, as we looked in sync, though I added my own solo on the side of the stage, a final series of bumps and shakes in my blue jeans, before relinquishing the stage again to my beautiful wife.

You were great, someone said to me afterward. Its amazing. You dont act your age at all.

Amazing? Why is it amazing that I dont act my age? Why should I act my age? Or more to the point, how is someone my age supposed to act? Old age is part fact, part state of mind, part luck, and wholly something best left for other people to ponder, not you or me. Why waste the time? I dont.

The following nightmy actual birthday, December 13we were out again. We went to a holiday party at the home of our friends Frank and Fay Mancuso. They throw first-class parties, and this one was no exception. Christmas carolers in Dickens-style outfits stood by the door and greeted guests with a buoyant version of the seasonal hymn Hark, the Herald Angels Sing, but they segued seamlessly to Happy Birthday as soon as Arlene and I came up the front walk. My wife had tipped off the hosts, despite my preference against such attention. But their harmonizing was perfect, absolutely gorgeous, and there is no bigger fan of four-part harmony than me. I stood there, beaming.

Do you take requests? I asked.

Sure, one of them said as the others nodded.

Do you know Caroling, Caroling? I love the Nat King Cole version, and for some reason I never hear it on the radio during the holidays.

They knew the classic holiday song, of course, and as their voices wove together in beautiful harmony, I stepped away from Arlenes side and joined them. Dingdong, ding-dong, we sang, Christmas bells are ringing... If I had worn a Victorian-era suit, I might have sung with them all night.

Inside, the house had been turned into a winter wonderland, starting with a tree in the entry that was at least twenty feet tall, if not taller, and decorated with such an abundance of ornaments and lights that I jokingly said to Arlene, You could break your neck trying to see the star at the top.

In the dining room we encountered an actual light snowfall, a unique backdrop to a delicious Italian feast that also included a sixteen-piece orchestra playing holiday classics and standardsin other words, my favorites. Then Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus passed out fancy caramel-covered apples and brought out an enormous cake full of candles. It was one way to say hello to my ninetieth year.

Ironically, I hadnt planned to do anything for my birthday. I had given the okay to my wife to organize a big party the next year, my ninetieth, but my intention was to sit this one out. I dont need a party every year. I am fine with celebrating the big ones, the birthdays ending in a five or a zero. Otherwise I dont like the fuss or attention. I am most comfortable with a simple dinner and visits or calls from my four children, seven grandchildren, and growing list of great-grandchildren.