The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

12 November 2003

The wisdom of the aged

Roger sang what Pete wrote: "Hope I die before I get old." Of course, that was a Sixties sentiment; I have no reason to think subsequent generations embraced it. (For that matter, I have no reason to think Keith embraced it.)

To illustrate, I offer the notes of S. Y. Affolee on the occasion of birthday number twenty-three. They go something like this:

I do feel as if I'm getting myself further entrenched in that convoluted grown-up land where anyone over eighteen to a six-year-old is, well, really, really old. Not that there's anything wrong about being really, really old — in fact, being really, really old probably has some perks. Like people assuming that you actually know something because you're really, really old. Like people letting you get away with outrageous stuff because you're really, really old. Like saying your mind and not giving a crap what other people think because you're really, really old and figure it's counterproductive to dwell on personal criticism.

From my vantage point of twenty-three times two and then some, I can report the following:

People do credit me with more knowledge than I possess, but this has been going on for many years, and I believe it's due, not to advanced age, but to the fact that I do have a vague grasp of many things and can emit convincing verbiage about them for periods not to exceed a couple of minutes, which somehow persuades people that I can do so on any subject whatsoever.

I don't really do any outrageous stuff, though I anticipate, should I decide to do so, that friends and neighbors will shrug and say, "What did you expect?"

And while I do give a crap what (some) other people think, I do it out of respect, not out of obligation; as family members can attest, though, I take everything personally.

Posted at 8:32 AM to General Disinterest

TrackBack: 9:14 PM, 13 November 2003
» And, then... from aldahlia
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