"Refurbishment Not Included: 70 Years of Falling for Disney"

"Most people go to Disneyland for the Pirates or the Teacups, but I spent my trip experiencing a different kind of attraction: Gravity."

They say you should never compare yourself to a celebrity, but when you share a birth year with the “happiest place on earth”, it’s hard not to compare. This year, both Disneyland and I are turning 70. However, as my grandkids so pointedly observed during our last trip: "Grandpa, Disneyland has aged a lot better than you have."

It’s a fair critique. Disneyland gets a fresh coat of paint and a mechanical overhaul every few years; I’m still waiting for the "scheduled maintenance" that fixes the multitude of aches and pains I experienced while trying to walk 5-7 miles per day and stay hydrated in the California heat.

The "Expert" Witness (from a Safe Distance)

My authority on "intensity" took a big hit before we even got to Disney. We were at Universal Studios, and my granddaughters were debriefing on their favorite rides.Revenge of the Mummy came up.

Granddaughter 1: "The Mummy ride was one of my favorites!"

Me (nodding sagely): "Yes, it was really intense."

Granddaughter 2: "Grandpa, are you saying the Mummy ride was really intense for you?"

Me: "Yes, I am. For me it was very intense!"

Granddaughter 2: "But Grandpa... you never actually went on the ride."

She had me. Between the memory lapses and the fact that I can now "feel" the intensity of a roller coaster just by reading the bold warnings posted before every ride, it was a clear sign that I'm playing a different life game than the kids.

The Gravity of the Situation

Disneyland provided plenty of proof that I am not as aerodynamic as I once was and frequently imagine myself to still be. While the professional Imagineers at Disney spent decades 'plus-ing' the park, I spent my trip 'minus-ing' my dignity with a couple of well-timed falls. Walt said getting back up is how you learn to walk; apparently, at 70, it's also how you learn who your favorite family members are based on how fast they help you up.

The first was a ‘graceful-not’ exit from Radiator Springs Racers. I managed to survive the high-speed race through the desert only to be defeated by tripping down the last step onto the stationary pavement as we exited. Thankfully, my son was there to hoist me back up before I became a permanent part of the landscaping. The second was more of a "collaborative" fall. I didn’t just trip; I performed a full-scale tactical maneuver that ended with me landing right on top of my granddaughter. It was a classic piece of physical comedy—the kind I’ve always admired in old sitcoms like The Dick Van Dyke Show—except in those shows, the actors always got up quickly and smiled. And my multiple falls led to long family discussions about how many older people die after suffering falls. I came away from Disneyland dreading the next visit with my doctor knowing that his first question will be:  “how many falls have you experienced in the last six months?” Should I answer honestly or evade the question out of embarrassment? Whenever I have moral questions, my daughter-in-law reminds me to look at the statue of Jiminy Cricket my kids got me when we went on a Disney Cruise years ago and to “let my conscience be my guide”.

Face Your Fears (Even the Top Rated Musical Ones)

As Jiminy Cricket encourages, I strive to let my conscience be my guide. But when I faced the psychological hurdle of Tiana’s Bayou Adventure, another voice in my head was screaming at me to run the other way.

I’ll admit it: I was terrified. There’s something about a "plunge" that feels much more personal at 70 than it did at 17. At 17, a drop is a thrill; at 70, it feels like a formal invitation for a chiropractor’s visit.

But I ignored my survival instincts, trusted my granddaughters’ knowledge of the ride and got in the boat. And despite the internal alarm bells, I actually loved it. It turns out that even at 70, there are still new "drops" in life that are worth the mid-section mutiny. It’s a bit like this blog—scary to start, potentially embarrassing if I fall, but ultimately a lot of fun once the music starts playing. And that sequence of feelings was actually a great metaphor for how my eight year old grandson experienced Disneyland. His friends told him he would love it and he had high expectations about something he had never experienced. Then he faced the big crowds and the heat and questioned the whole idea of the trip. It took time, but as he actually experienced the rides, tasted the great food such mickey mouse ice cream and turkey legs, and interacted with the characters I have loved for 70 years, he got to a point where, when we were ready to go home, he emphatically stated he wanted to stay. 

The Teenage Perspective (Prime vs. Decline?)

While my younger grandson was busy discovering the magic, my teenage grandson was providing a masterclass in being "cool." He took Star Wars: Rise of the Resistance in stride, unfazed by the First Order or the high-tech wizardry.

But his real stoicism showed during my various "gravity-defying" moments. Every time I stumbled or made a fool of myself, he didn't laugh; he just offered a quiet, knowing smile. It made me wonder what was actually going through his head as he watched me. There he is, standing firmly in his absolute physical prime—strong, steady, and sure-footed. And then there’s me, standing in my... well, I’m not sure what to call this stage. My "refurbishment era"? My "vintage collection" phase?

Watching him, I realized that at 70, you spend a lot of time wondering if the younger generation sees a "legend" or just a "liability." But every time he reached out a hand to steady me, I decided it didn't really matter. He was there, I was there, and we were both in the same Galaxy—even if I was the one most likely to be defeated by a Galaxy’s Edge curb.

We also crossed paths with Rey near the Resistance Forest. I tried to engage, but it was clear where her priorities lay. She was completely focused on the kids, giving them the kind of undivided, heroic attention that makes you realize you've officially moved into the 'supporting cast' phase of life. It’s a strange feeling—part of you wants to be the one she’s recruiting for a secret mission, but seeing that spark in the grandkids' eyes makes being the ‘Yoda' in the background more than worth it.

The Bottom Line in $$

When I look back at seven decades of park tickets, VHS tapes replaced by DVDs, which were then replaced by Blu-ray discs, and the crowning achievement of a pre-pandemic family cruise for fourteen, the "Disney Tax" on my life has been significant. We’re talking about a sum that could have purchased a small fleet of cars.

So, was the "magic" worth the mortgage-sized investment? As I look at my 70-year-old reflection, I realize that while Disneyland might have aged better, I’m the one with the stories of being picked up off the desert floor by my son. And that, I suppose, is a different kind of magic.