Explosions in the Sky, El Alamein, September 1942
They say ev'rything can be replaced, | Yet ev'ry distance is not near. | So I remember ev'ry face | Of ev'ry man who put me here.
We all know the Big Five. Globalisation, peak oil, food scarcity, climate change, and global warming. Alternatively, we have the leopard, lion, rhinoceros, buffalo, and elephant.
Personally, the Big Five-Oh's been the elephant occupying my mind. I've avoided 'birthdays' to now, relating instead to the adage "You're as young or as old as you feel" — and, like most, I feel pretty good. Reasonably fit, healthy, and sane, I was always going to experience and consider the present and future as a seamless continuum.
For some reason, these photographs changed that. They'd been lying in a box for years and were scanned only recently.
Digitising the aging prints, I realised that, had we a wall on which hung a rogue's gallery of generational genetics, I'd be among the grey or sepia visages staring out at God knows what. However, had they remained in the box, they'd become the faded remnants of long-ago attempts to immortalise the living.
They'd be the memories of somebody other than the rummager and, lacking names, they'd mean nothing.
I'd hit a speed bump on my personal space-time continuum and I felt uncomfortable. The elephant had gone rogue and was destroying the suburban order of my psychic neighbourhood.
I know there's no avoiding our being forgotten and this is no exercise in trying to prolong memory. These pictures gave me something else, and what they gave me put the elephant out of mind. Merely acknowledging that these prints represent little more than items of future curiosity put everything into fresh perspective.
They hold nothing but sentimental value and belong in the box from which I had taken them — with the elephant. While I believe we remain every age we've ever been, I do acknowledge the importance of endings.
Over fifty years, I've been there, done this, thought that. I have the T-shirt and I'm comfortable in my own skin. I've no regrets and I regard our global Big Five as opportunities to learn from experiences we're all going to find uncomfortable. Quite frankly, and this has always been at the back of my mind, I want to be around when the shit hits the fan.
Now unencumbered by having to grow up through the Big Five of convention, i.e. childhood, adolescence, adulthood, marriage, kids, etc. I'm free to explore the world.
And few will pay me heed. It's a glorious thought. I've been set free to play in the fields of the Lord for as long as is my lot and fuck anybody who crosses my path.
Cracked? I don't know and it doesn't matter.
The World Is Not a Cold Dead Place, Cape Town 1974
They say ev'ry man needs protection, | They say ev'ry man must fall. | Yet I swear I see my reflection | Some place so high above this wall.
Revelling in my newfound freedom, I ran slap-bang into Frank Paynter. For those of you who know him, you'd know immediately that our meeting would demand of a rigorous re-examination of my newborn hypothesis. For those of you who don't know him, watch The Straight Story.
That's Frank. He is to blogging as Angelo Badalamenti is to David Lynch.
Disconcerted by my uncharacteristic exuberance, Frank suggested a visit to Ronni Bennett. In fact: he put it thus:
Ronni Bennett writes “Time Goes By — what it’s really like to get older.” She is conducting a survey on the universe of bloggers over 50 (”elderbloggers”).Now don't get me wrong — I love Frank Paynter. He is one of the nicest guys you could hope to meet and is, to put all doubt to rest, a founding member of Very Nice People.
“The goal,” she says, “is to find out what elderbloggers are like, how we may be similar and how we are different, how we relate to technology, how we came to be bloggers or blog readers, how we feel about it and what our demographics are.”
The survey is multiple choice, anonymous, and hosted at Survey Monkey (a reputable firm). There are 57 questions. It took me only a few minutes to complete.
NOTA BENE: This survey is for elderbloggers and elder blog readers who do not keep blogs. Readers and commenters are as important as bloggers to the elderblogging community and help equally to make it as lively and compelling as it is.
In the far distance, I heard a trumpeting elephant. I immediately started a mail to Frank:
I've not thought of bloggers in terms of age. I count myself and those with whom I blog as 'bloggers' and the rest as Johnny Come Latelys or, for example, in the case of Selene or AKMA and Margaret's contributions to a saner, more civilized world, bloggers of the same age group as my daughters. My son, I believe I regard in much the same way as you do yours, i.e. as my equal.I was heading back to where this blog entry starts out.
Mindful of JP's recent birthday, a thought did spring to mind. I was recently a bit rocked to discover one of our fellow bloggers was a retired U.S. naval commander. His age? 50. It startled me and, thinking back on my reaction, wonder if my surprise was not a result of the cultural / national / lifestyle / geographic differences distinguishing us.
A South African, I expect to work to 65 or 70 and assume I'll need to work longer; till I drop. Until then, I compete against high unemployment (officially anywhere between 25 to 45 percent), youngsters pouring into the marketplace, changing employment practices and, in SA, an imperfect but necessary affirmative action.
In short, I cannot think of myself as 'getting on', let alone being an 'elder' anything. Nor do I regret it. I work with people I respect and admire. They're smart, sharp, and their ages belie their years. Hell, some are in their early twenties and I just don't see an "age gap." Perhaps I'm missing something ...
Hearing the elephant climbing out of the box, I left the mail unfinished and dashed over to Ronni's to complete the questionnaire. I'm pleased I did. Having survived the shock of finding myself among ElderBloggers, I found much else on Ronni's site over which to enthuse.
A couple of weeks ago, Tom Matrullo sent me the second instalment of a friend's recollection of a trip to Southern Africa. A beautifully written essay, its author is in her eighties. Her insights and observations are those of a travel journalist sent in to get the story behind the story.
Nothing escapes her eye and as little escapes her considered and informed opinion.
In their own distinctive ways, Frank, the geriatric romper room at Very Nice People, Ronni's site, Tom's friend, my family, and my colleagues bear out my original thesis, i.e. "You're as young or as old as you feel."
Tossing the elephant a bottle of Amarula, I tipped my cap to those I know, and shuffled off to find my slippers.
I see my light come shining | From the west unto the east. | Any day now, any day now, | I shall be released.
Bob Dylan | I Shall Be Released
Oh yeah...
