Ageism
Frank and I were driving to school this morning (and incidentally, yay, school is back in session!) and on the radio they announced that it was Jimmy Page's birthday today and that he turned 68.
"68!" Frank exclaimed. "And he's still playing the guitar and touring the world."
"Yep," I said.
"Kind of like Grandma and Poppy who went to Ireland for Christmas. They're in their 60s, too. When you're 68 you can tour the world," he observed.
"That's true," I said.
"Ooh, look, a Porsche!" Frank said, and then he was off talking about motors and wheel bases and stylistic observations about the particular model of Porsche next to us on South Street.
I was left reflecting on my son's rather optomistic outlook about what it means to be 68. There was a lot of commentary a couple of years ago as the Rolling Stones were on tour in their 60s. Rock is aging, but I think it bothers older people more than younger people. My son is compeltely fine with old rock and rollers. In fact, he thinks it's cool.
This weekend I was at a debate tournament with my daughter's school. I have been really struck by how similar everything seems to me. The kids are adorable in their suits and earnest in their willingness to please and their desire to win. Many of the same people are around. Several of my fellow debaters are back as fathers of kids who now debate. My coach, a new teacher and coach when I had him, is now at the top of his game coaching-wise. He is well-respected and has earned it. He's friendly and smart and fair - all qualities that he had as a young teacher which have served him well in his career.
I was talking with a friend from high school when my old coach came by and observed, "Lea looks just like she did in high school." The comment caught me by surprise, but it was a nice compliment. I don't feel like the same person. I am heavier and greyer and more cynical. I think that changes are more obvious to the individual than they are to everyone else. I look in the mirror these days and see my mother's face when she was 41, but when I look at my mother in her 60s, I don't think I see her as she is now; somehow my brain has not allowed that aging to occur yet. And really, it is that trick of the brain, to see someone as they were, that allows us to love Jimmy Page at 68.
"68!" Frank exclaimed. "And he's still playing the guitar and touring the world."
"Yep," I said.
"Kind of like Grandma and Poppy who went to Ireland for Christmas. They're in their 60s, too. When you're 68 you can tour the world," he observed.
"That's true," I said.
"Ooh, look, a Porsche!" Frank said, and then he was off talking about motors and wheel bases and stylistic observations about the particular model of Porsche next to us on South Street.
I was left reflecting on my son's rather optomistic outlook about what it means to be 68. There was a lot of commentary a couple of years ago as the Rolling Stones were on tour in their 60s. Rock is aging, but I think it bothers older people more than younger people. My son is compeltely fine with old rock and rollers. In fact, he thinks it's cool.
This weekend I was at a debate tournament with my daughter's school. I have been really struck by how similar everything seems to me. The kids are adorable in their suits and earnest in their willingness to please and their desire to win. Many of the same people are around. Several of my fellow debaters are back as fathers of kids who now debate. My coach, a new teacher and coach when I had him, is now at the top of his game coaching-wise. He is well-respected and has earned it. He's friendly and smart and fair - all qualities that he had as a young teacher which have served him well in his career.
I was talking with a friend from high school when my old coach came by and observed, "Lea looks just like she did in high school." The comment caught me by surprise, but it was a nice compliment. I don't feel like the same person. I am heavier and greyer and more cynical. I think that changes are more obvious to the individual than they are to everyone else. I look in the mirror these days and see my mother's face when she was 41, but when I look at my mother in her 60s, I don't think I see her as she is now; somehow my brain has not allowed that aging to occur yet. And really, it is that trick of the brain, to see someone as they were, that allows us to love Jimmy Page at 68.
posted by Lea at 7:39 AM
1 Comments:
I really realated to your thoughts about his, Lea. Especially about my parents too.
In one of my high school plays, I was a middle aged character and made up accordingly. I'm happy now to see that I have far less wrinkles and gray hair than was thought I would have.
-Captain
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