Courtesy of https://unsplash.com/images/nature/outer-space, Artist Ray Rakoxy
A young television commentator recently dissed Joe Biden’s chances of winning reelection in 2024. Barely old enough to qualify as a voter, she had no qualms about her prediction. She explained the President risked losing young voters because he defended Israel’s war on Gaza. He was reaching into the past for political solutions, she said, instead of analyzing the future.
What she failed to credit the President in his first term of office with were policies that benefited youth–extending their medical and mental health services; pardoning their marijuana transgressions; strengthening civil and voting rights for minorities and the LGBTQ population; struggling to give citizenship to Dreamers, and for having done his damnedest to reduce student college debt. Not an exhaustive list, but it should prove the “old man” has pulled his weight on behalf of succeeding generations.
Of course, only a fool expects the young to be grateful. Barefoot boys and girls with cheeks of tan seldom are. As chicks newly hatched from their shells, they imagine the world exists to praise them.
I recall Mark Zuckerberg’s views when he was in his late twenties. Stuffed into his signature tee shirt and standing before an auditorium filled with his peers, his glib understanding of the scheme of things was that older folks weren’t as smart as younger ones. Now that he approaches the brink of 40, I wonder what he might say to his younger self if he could. “Sadder and wiser,” would seem to be appropriate words.
As for the commentator who was ready to trash Biden’s bid for a second term, her disrespect for history was wanton. Doubtless a smart cookie, she’d never argue the past had no influence on the present. Viscerally, however, she gave the connection little credence. If she had followed her thought to its conclusion, she’d have discovered what she feared about Biden was his experience and knowledge.
Like other critics, she also hints that the President, in his eighties, might die during a second term. It’s happened before. Abraham Lincoln, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and John F. Kennedy died in office. So did five others. Even so, several heads of state have governed into their nineties, Queen Elizabeth among them.
As far as I know, there are no rules about the appropriate age to die. At 87, I’ve shed tears for numerous former students.
What’s more, it might surprise this young journalist to know that people reach the peak of happiness and self-confidence in their sixties and beyond. The reason is simple. They’ve learned to enjoy what they have and don’t confuse elation with happiness–a distinction that escapes younger generations and fills them with the fear of never having enough.
We can thank the brain’s amygdala for the disparity. Ruler of our emotions, it slows down as we grow older. Eventually, Wagnerian-like passions wither, allowing the mature brain to take pleasure in connecting with others. More importantly, once rid of dross like status-seeking, self-aggrandizement, and competition, we arrive at the distillation of self.
When vanity falls away like molted feathers, we can peer into the heavens unencumbered. Simply put, we enter a state, not of innocence, but of knowing. Call it consciousness of the third kind.
Don’t hate me when I say I pity the young. To be honest, I’m embarrassed I needed 87 years to pass before I grasped the difference between the sweet bird of youth and my inner child. If only I’d have listened earlier to the poet. He got it right. The child is father of the man.
