Aphoristic Idiocy

The way that algebra was presented, back in my school days, seemed arbitrary, at least to me. I fought the conventions of the terminology itself (A+B = only itself or B+A, and not AB, which, by some capricious logic, was designated only to mean A times B). I was, of course, forced to give in to the designations decided in ancient Greece or Persia, and play what I mentally termed their silly game. I passed the class mostly by dint of memorization and painful determination. Oddly enough, a few years later, I embraced my college course in logic, which is not at all dissimilar to algebra, and received an A. Was the difference in my performance the result of my brain development, or of better teaching?

But when I am "dissatisfied"with aging, I don’t take comfort in recalling the misery of my year in algebra class. Instead, I tend to remember the on-going social agonies of adolescence, or the demeaning attitudes of a couple of middle management bosses who held low expectations for their female employees, or the exhausting days of being a working mother. Those memories work a lot better to encourage my relief and even delight in growing old, especially if I recall them while I am having a leisurely, post-retirement morning with my coffee and my newspaper.

As to the second smart-aleck quote about how being young is beautiful while being old is comfortable: it can only be written by someone who has forgotten how insecure those beautiful youngsters are. Acne? Emerging hips and bosoms? Menstruation? Braces? And after one has made it through pubescence and adolescence, consider how much maintenance work "beauty" requires: hair coloring, eyebrow shaping; makeup; blusher; eye shadow and liner; skin creams; tanning; workouts to tighten abs, butt, thighs, etc.; the endless war on fat, cellulite, sun damage, thinning hair, sagging flesh, etc. Worst of all, staying young is predetermined to be a losing battle. You may try with all your might to keep that particular shade of blonde, to stay au courante with fads and the media, to indulge in plastic surgery, to wear trendy clothes and an uplifting bra, to find a terrific hair stylist or wig, but your hands and neck and crow’s feet will always give you away, and you’ll wind up looking like what you are: a sad case of trying to stay too long at the fair.

But being old is comfortable? In what universe does whoever wrote that ridiculous statement live? Sure, it’s comfortable to stop worrying about all of the above-mentioned regimens. Yes, it's nice not to have to dash off to a job every morning, or to deal with juggling children (accidents; birthday parties; crises; parent conferences) or current fashions (oh migod, those heels!) and changing lifestyles (think divorce, remarriage, dating). But what about arthritis, actinic keratoses that must be frozen off, bifocals, thinning hair, dental problems, thinning bones, dietary restrictions, hearing loss, various surgeries and other health problems, adult children who need financial help (or perhaps return to the house), downsizing from a beloved home, memory problems from hell, and being treated like a nuisance by the clerk in a local supermarket? What about doctors who talk down to you, because they figure you are no longer (a) capable of understanding basic anatomy or (b) able to make an informed decision?

It seems to me that it is time to get over the business of comparing young with old. It's silly to make blanket statements about youth and age and beauty and comfort, no matter how slick and quotable the comment. In fact, life is just life. Every age has its categories of delights and discontents and triumphs and disasters. If we’re lucky, we keep an active sense of humor every step of the way. Well, make that every other step of the way.

Maybe.

pedia; the keyboard of the Malling-Hansen writing ball, invented in 1865)

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Aphoristic Idiocy

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