Writing these blogs gives me a lot to think about, which is great because I am the kind of person who lives in my brain, in the parsing of words and thoughts. I appreciate having this forum to share my endless backlog of stories about life, writing, and our elders.
A few blogs back, I said this: Some people like cats, others prefer dogs. Some people love to be with babies, or even, I’ve heard, teenagers. My objective was to arrive at the admission that I love folks with dementia. True enough.
But I’ve been thinking about what lies behind the little bit of humor alluding to teenagers. As if it is unbelievable that anyone really enjoys befriending that group of humans which is, according to stereotypes, moody, uncommunicative, mercurial, mysterious, and generally a pain in the kahoochie. I don’t know many teens, and I’m sure some fit that mold, but I do have one great teen friend who has none of those traits. (Hi Tess I luv u!) So I know, beyond political correctness, that generalizations, while an easy source of humor, are fairly useless in making important judgments about people.
This applies to elders, across the board. To list and debate the stereotypes only recognizes them, so I am going to skip that. What I have seen is that people have different pre-conceptions about old folks, usually based on their early-life experiences. So, what I want to explain is that just because your own grandma was a sweet cookie-baking baby-kisser, this doesn’t mean every old lady is Mrs. Claus. Likewise, if your neighbor when you were a kid was ten times meaner than old Mr. Wilson was to Dennis the Menace, you might be surprised to learn that there are old men with soft hearts of pure gold.
Imagine a classroom of five-year-olds. You know that each child will have a personality and response to the world that is amazingly unique. Add about eighty years of experience to those kids. How would this not make every single one of them even more profoundly one-of-a-kind?
My favorite story about generalizations: At a church potluck, I met an old guy who used to have an orchard right on the Columbia River. There was a beaver living nearby in the river, and sometimes it would come out of the water and up into the orchard. The beaver was large and aggressive. “He would chase my dogs clear up to the house,” the man said.
Not the shy busy beaver of our nature stories, this cantankerous river creature. Since then I’ve wondered if there are perhaps some bold mice, quiet magpies, peace-loving wolverines. This seems no less likely than sweet teenagers or writers who know where to end a story.
One thing I know for sure is that if I just keep up the communication, maybe I’ll get a brief spark or phrase if I happen to babble something familiar.
Heck, sometimes, some non verbal elder will speak!
And, of course, there are those that want to just hit me….occasionally, it’s scary. I just smile and keep up my end (and sometimes theirs) of the conversation.
We can still love creatures that are not ‘cute’, human or otherwise.
I volunteer to feed some feral cat communities once a week.
We fix ‘em so it is unusual for a kitten to show up. Our furry friends are a dirty, matted bunch and not at all cuddly.
Yet, I love them and miss them when I’m not greeted.
They are sweet in their own way.
I’d like to think there’s some gentleness in all of nature….I could be wrong.