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The
Warren Adler E-Sheet 52
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The
Aging Obsession
 I
admit it. I am obsessed by the
aging process. I hate it. I hate the
accelerating deterioration of my inner and
outer body parts, the declining sharpness of
hearing and sight, the slowing pace of my
legs, and other unmentionable afflictions.
Despite medical and pharmacological advances,
which I welcome, I know that such advances are
merely unnatural
palliatives to extend our lives, but do
little to demolish the reality of our
inevitable descent into oblivion.
That said, I have found one saving grace that
is both inspiring and encouraging to anyone
who has reached the age of seventy. I am
inspired by the words and deeds of
Ronald Reagan, who once joked that he
didn't trust anyone under seventy. My latest
inspiration is none other than
Antonin Scalia, Associate Justice of the
Supreme Court and the scourge of the so-called
liberal left.
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People over 70 can say what they please,
express themselves without fear and not
worry about reprisals that will affect
their slowly-disappearing future. |
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My admiration is not at all political.
Justice Scalia illustrates that people over
seventy no longer have to kowtow to diplomatic
norms. They can say what they please,
express themselves without fear and not worry
about reprisals that will affect their
slowly-disappearing future. This is not to say
that Justice Scalia will in any way compromise
his day job responsibilities, but age makes
him free to speak and act in ways that people
under 70 might deem unthinkable.
Recently he was excoriated in the press for
making a hand gesture of dismissal when asked
a pesky question by an overeager journalist.
The journalist thought the gesture obscene,
which led to Scalia providing a lesson in
Italian hand expressions. Instead of watching
Chief Justice Roberts get sworn in, he
opted to attend a trip sponsored by the
Federalist Society to a luxury resort. Given
the choice, what would you do if you were over
seventy and had attended countless boring and
repetitive swearing in rituals?
These may seem like trivial actions, but I
hope they illuminate the point that once the
seventy line is crossed, a person says what
they want without worrying about the
consequences. I don't mean that reaching this
age of pre-senility
gives you the license to say hurtful words or
deliberately insult or ridicule others,
especially those of lesser years.
At age seventy, at long last, the Rubicon has
been crossed. It is time to vocalize your
opinions, say what you really mean and trumpet
your opinions without pussyfooting around or
worrying that you are offending someone's pet
cause.
We live in a world of a million pet causes.
Television and the internet have spawned
thousands of ways to protest and demonstrate
against some perceived violation of rights, as
if the larger the crowd shown the greater the
truth and righteousness of the cause.
More and more, I have discovered the one great
joy of the aging process, speaking out. At
this moment in my time, I feel free to speak
what I think, what experience has taught me,
what life has earned me. I really don't give a
tinker's damn what others may think of my
opinions. Moreover, I take great pleasure in
argument and rebuttal, however it might offend
those with contrary views. I say, the more
contrary, the better the argument.
Most people tend to be absurdly rigid in their
views. The prevailing etiquette is to
either accept what is circumscribed,
compartmentalized and deemed politically
correct or be relegated to the fixed
boundaries of the enemy camp.
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The greatest of all pleasures is to attack
the ramparts of political correctness,
which has frozen all manner of debate. |
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The greatest of all pleasures is to attack the
ramparts of political correctness, which has
frozen all manner of debate. Say the word
"girl" to a woman over twenty-one and the
gender Nazis may attack. Criticize the
term African-American and you are a
racist. Dare to say what you really think
about
Muslim extremists and you are anti-Muslim.
If you opine for a saner immigration policy,
you are anti-Hispanic. If you are
pro-choice, then you are a baby killer. If
you are pro-life, you are a religious fanatic.
If you believe in God, you are a
right-wing nut. If you don't, you're a
Godless creep. Chat up a lady in the office
and you are a sexual harasser. Advocate
lowering taxes and you are
anti-poor. Advocate raising taxes and you
are anti-rich. Discipline your child and you
are a child abuser. Kiss your darling little
baby grandchild on her butt and you are a
pedophile. Naysay a lionized academic and you
are an ignorant ingrate. Disagree with a
mainstream drama, literary or music critic and
you are a tasteless Philistine. Rebut a wine
snob and your palate is deemed insensitive.
The list of alleged discriminations and rights
abuses are endless. For people over seventy,
who have shed their fear of non-conformity and
discovered the joys of saying what they really
think, the vineyards are bursting with ripe
fruit.
Of course, there is a downside to such
outspokenness. You risk being dismissed as a
laughable curmudgeon or senile by those who
the years have yet to ferment with hard-earned
knowledge and insight.
But then, does it really matter what they
think? Invariably they are dead wrong. By the
time you hit seventy, the chances are that
you've learned the truth of things and if you
make eighty, you're entitled to a curmudgeon
medal with clusters. If you hit ninety, hell
who cares what anyone says.
I'll end with
Dylan Thomas' immortal lines: "Do not go
gentle into that good night."
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