In Praise of Wrinkles

I grew up in the age of paper, before the age of plastic. I’m talking paper grocery sacks (which I used to fill and carry out as a grocery boy).

There was an art to opening a fresh grocery sack. You would slide your first two fingers just inside where the half circle was cut into one side of the top, then, using your thumb to get a grip on it, you flung it downward, snapping your wrist. The sack would respond by opening wide with a pop, eager to receive its cargo.

Rich kids had lunch boxes. Others had paper lunch sacks. I used to enjoy taking my lunch to work in a paper sack.

Smooth, fresh paper grocery sacks could be the canvas for a young Norman Rockwell-wanna-be. Lunch sacks could easily be converted into a puppet.

If someone today told me I had to stare at a paper sack for a long period of time, I would prefer they give me a sack that has been used often, rather than a brand new one. The creases, folds and wrinkles would be innumerable and the variations endless. I would exhaust the largest lexicon trying to find words to describe all the nuances in the rumpled sack.

On the other hand, if I had to look at and describe a brand-new sack, I would be limited to saying, “It’s smooth and has sharp edges.” That’s it. Which is to say, “It’s boring.”

Our culture is obsessed with smooth. Women are encouraged to spread makeup on their faces like I would joint compound on sheetrock, working like crazy to hide any imperfection. They inject Botox into their faces to erase wrinkles.

As for me, I prefer to look at women with wrinkles. I’m talking about wrinkles that are the result of someone who has lived a full life. A face with wrinkles is a face with character.

If you have wrinkles, here’s what I see when I look at you:

That furrow between your eyes is a result of having a heart of concern for others, feeling the pain of others. People are lucky to have you as a friend because what happens to them matters to you.

I see by the wrinkles in your brow that you are a passionate person. You’re angry, upset, happy, loving, fearful, and a score of other emotions. To know you is to know someone with intensity.

Those crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes tell me you’ve spent lots of time laughing. You’ve had friends and family that you’ve enjoyed being with. Your sense of humor shows in those crow’s feet.

The dimples were handed down to you, but the creases around them are a reflection of the number of times you’ve smiled. Being pleasant must come natural to you.

There’re wrinkles at the corners of your mouth which reveal you haven’t always been happy. It’s the trade-off we all experience in which to whatever degree we experience happiness, we will experience sadness to the same degree.

But there are also frown lines that let me know you are quick to show displeasure when someone violates the common laws of decency and respect for others.

You’re probably unhappy about those wrinkles in your neck. But they’re only there because you are always turning your head to see what someone needs and what you can do to help.

So please, please don’t completely hide your wrinkles! They’re a reflection of your character. They reveal a woman who has depth.

Wear them with pride.

They add to your beauty and mystery.

* Taken from The Wit and Wisdom of David Johnson, Volume 1: I Didn’t Know Donkeys Could Laugh.