More on Eliminating the Vote for Old Folks

I had the chance to confirm my suspicion that the elderly should not vote by recently meeting with a group of very nice older folks and attempting to chat about politics.

It is perplexing to me to watch friends who have decided that their view of the world, whatever it may be, is now set in concrete and that discussing politics or current events in a polite manner will not influence or change that view so there is no point to the discussion. Stop, they seem to want to say, I don’t want to hear it.  I’ve made up my mind, once and for all. Consider my mind closed for business!

One dear friend even told me, “There is no truth”. This was a quote from a lobbyist relative. Does that sound vaguely like a rationalization for a life of promoting untruths?

Even if you can demonstrate conclusively that, for example, the vast majority of folks in Canada think their health care system is better than any other country, my friends still insist millions of Canadians are heading for the border to get health care, when that is simply not so. To admit this fact interferes with an already established world view that is easier to maintain than to modify.

In other words, our views seem to become less flexible, just like our joints, as we get older. Or maybe we simply tend to become lazy thinkers as we age. “I’ve been thinking about stuff for years, I’m tired, I’m done”.

Many of these same older folks vote no on every funding request on the town ballot because it’s easier than thinking about each request. And in the spirit of sophomoric thought, along the lines of “Guns don’t kill people”, many other older folks want to starve government financially to make it smaller, as if that alone will finally straighten out the crazy world we all live in. These are the same people who scared to death of the phony debt crisis.

If exercise is the best medicine for the body, what happens when you stop exercising your mind?

Retirement Benefit Number Twelve

I did not have to drive home last evening.

I was told by a neighbor that the traffic on Route 6 was backed up ten miles or more. What a relief!

I can remember the early morning discussions on the last day of a holiday weekend or any summer Sunday for that matter in years past: if the weather is going to be nice, we should leave early; if the weather is terrible, we can stay until later. Sometimes, when nothing else could be done we would travel along what was called “the service road” for the old Otis Air Force base which parallels Route 6 from Exit 6 to Exit 2. Even this out of the way route would sometimes be backed up! We might also venture down Route 6A to Sandwich and be backed up there.

Now, I don’t give traffic a thought unless I’m flying out of Logan or going to the doctor’s office in Boston. Sundays and Monday holidays are serene. Have another drink, sit back in the cushions on the chaise longue, enjoy the sunset and the last of the sailboats coming home.

The next morning is even better if the weather is swell, like today. No traffic, no lines, nothing to keep an old fella from biking to the beach or taking a little boat ride down a still river.

I’m already home.

You Old Baby

I had one of those epiphanies like St. Paul or that eureka guy except I wasn’t sitting in the tub.

We had a town election here last week. At 6 in the evening the polling place wasn’t very busy but the combined age of all the voters had to be 80. And it hit me as I listened to them all complaining about their taxes outside the door.

Just as we restrict the young before age 18 from voting, we should restrict old people for the last 18 years of their lives. I assume we restrict the young because they do not have the maturity to be counted on to make reasonable choices. They are not adults yet, at least legally.

The very old have passed the age of maturity and re-entered childhood. They say the same thing over and over again like babies. They have no idea where they are or why they went there. They poop in their pants given half a chance. Someone delivers their lunch, drives them to the doctors and helps them bathe.

Now, we don’t know exactly what encompasses each old fart’s last 18 years of life but, like an insurance company, we can use actuarial tables to estimate that. Let’s say no voting after age 70. Then, hopefully, we can stop listening to the whining about fixed incomes or that their children are no longer in school and when they themselves went to school THEY didn’t have computers (forgetting, of course, that no one did), and they never made $35,000 in one year so why should school teachers.

The fact is seniors have never been better off. They have incomes, health care and independent lives. What they are really bitching about is that their taxes, the lowest they have been as a percentage of income since 1958, are cutting into what they need for their weekends at Foxwoods Casino.

I say enough already. You shouldn't be driving or voting!

My Friend

At my age, what is the most appropriate name for the lady you know who is your friend and that you really, really like? She is my age. She is quite cute, smart and independent. She has raised two daughters by herself and they both have done very well. She stills works.

We go for coffee some mornings and talk. Since we are the same age and have raised daughters we have lots in common. We go for drives by the beach the way people used to before gas got to $4 and they all commuted 100 miles to work each day. We have been to a movie and to dinner several times. Sometimes, in rare good weather, we take a walk and talk.

I like her. She’s nice. I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said she would. Recently, she introduced me to a friend of hers as her “BF”. I liked that too but thought “BF” was, perhaps, a little young for us. I also don’t know if it stands for “boyfriend” or “best friend”. It must be “boyfriend” because she clearly has friends from her past who better fit the “best friend” category.

I remember, years ago, an old fellow introducing someone to my mother as “his lady friend” I thought that sounded awful then and I still do. I can’t even begin to get my head around “significant other” except as the result of some sort of condition. “I had a fever so long, I developed a significant other”.

I think of Diann as a girl and she is my friend so I guess I’ll stick with that unless someone has a better word.

Retirement Benefit, Number 49

One of the great benefits of retirement, one I had never considered beforehand, is that I can go to bed as early or as late as I want and get up as early or as late as I feel rested. Last night, for example, I fell asleep around 9 PM and I popped up this morning at about 4:30 AM. Less sleep than my usual 9 or 10 hours but I felt rested and if I tire during the day I can always take a nap.

No worries that I have to be up and sharp early for a Rotary breakfast function or a Chamber of Commerce event. No concerns that I’ll be out late again at a City Council meeting or off to a conference somewhere. It’s really a lot like being a baby again, being retired: eat when you are hungry, sleep when you are tired. It won’t be long, I suppose before I even revert to the poop in the pants routine!