Yesterday I wrote a seemingly lightweight piece on the elderly couple (in their 90s) who made the news by marrying recently. Lillian and Allan Marks, technically newlyweds, met some 18 years ago, have been living together, and finally wed.
On the Huffington Post, you can watch a video of their brief exchange of vows, and you can read the comments that follow – most of which describe them as sweet or cute or precious.
Seriously?
Where is the dignity in our responses to our elders – that same dignity that we expect to be accorded in our twenties, thirties and forties?
Why is it that once an individual appears to be of a certain age, we suddenly diminish their feelings, their competence, and their full personhood?
Where is the realization that these remarks, albeit well-intentioned, are patronizing and dismissive?
Yes, a few people viewing at Huffington Post noted exactly the same thing – the inappropriateness of those descriptions. This couple is elderly, but they aren’t children. Cute? Sweet? Those terms left me indignant.
Clearly, I’ve got something in my craw. Yesterday’s writing on remarrying when elderly opens numerous areas for discussion. A couple at this stage in life choosing to make things legal is fascinating. But the attention was on their age alone, the novelty of it, rather than the many questions.
If you glanced at those questions, did you scan and move on because you had no time? Because the topic wasn’t of interest? Did you carry anything of the related questions on marriage, divorce, or relationships into your afternoon or evening thoughts?
Am I scolding? Yes, I suppose I am.
There were a few words left here (thank you to those readers), but comments here aren’t the point. What is – and the source of my irritation – is our growing tendency to read and think as if we’re skipping stones – hit or miss, skimming the surface, then moving on.
Marriage, Remarriage, Knowing What We Want
As for those musings on marriage, sparked by this elderly couple, I have plenty of questions. For myself, they’re valuable. So what about you? Do you pose yourself questions? Do you take or make the time to do so? Do you know what you want in your relationships? What you don’t want? What you have or don’t have?
Do you pursue your goals including your happiness, and do so at all cost?
If you’re not content in your marriage, are you what needs to be examined? If you’re considering remarriage, have you done your healing, and the introspective work so you don’t repeat your past mistakes? Have you learned the difference between self-interest and selfishness?
As for the Marxes, one comment left here suggests they are a couple in love, and I would agree. Another categorizes them as an inspiration (and denounces the ageist insensitivity as well). And again, I agree. Yet I ask, still – why the need for that special commitment after 18 years together? Are they more open to love because their previous marriages ended in widowhood rather than divorce?
Imagine Yourself In 30 Years
Anyone old enough to remember being taught to respect your elders? Don’t you think there’s a valid reason why we were taught such a thing – beyond the fact that everyone ought to be accorded respect?
Try this. Come on. Man up.
Imagine yourself today – as you are, and the age you are – 24 or 37 or 43 or 55.
Now add twenty years. Hell, make that thirty. You are still you, and even more so, enriched by the wisdom of your experiences. But your hair is gray, your right knee aches, your pace is slower, your sleeping is interrupted. Your body doesn’t look like your body now – but you’re still you.
In fact, you’re a better inner you than you ever imagined you might become.
Respect Your Elders
Respect your elders? Now you’re one of them and damn right you want respect!
You still have feelings. You still love sex. You still perceive and respond to beauty. You still contribute, want to contribute. You have dreams. You are still yourself.
Don’t you deserve to be treated with dignity? The same dignity you demand at 24 or 37 or 43 or 55? Don’t you want to be visible?
Wouldn’t you be furious if someone called you “cute” or “precious” or “sweet” in a well-intentioned but utterly dismissive way?
Dumbing Down, Dropping Out
Is the world truly dumbing us down to such an extent that we can no longer read thoroughly and think for ourselves? Are we going through motions and effectively dropping out?
Are we so focused on getting through the day that we’ve set aside our sense of decorum, our ability to imagine other circumstances, our outrage, our common sense, and the fact that we don’t know everything?
Where are our thoughtful questions – big questions, little questions, the lines of inquiry that lead us to help ourselves and others along our journey, and without erosion of self-respect? Where is the examination of our own motives, the possibility of learning from mistakes, the opportunity for change?
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I think you’ve hit upon an issue that is going to become increasingly central as more people live longer lives. As the average lifespan creeps upward, how acceptable will it be to say “Awww” to the vivacious 85 year old at the store?
But I admit: I am guilty here. I am much more likely to find “cuteness” in kids and the elderly than I am among my peers and near elders. Thanks for making me stop to examine why and how problematic that might be.
I think this awareness of the capacities (not to mention the feelings) of those who “appear older” is a huge issue. You point out the demographics at the heart of it, and the related issues are many (the cosmetic surgery industry? everything and anything to look younger?).
As for pointing out how easy it is for us in our youth to lump kids and the elderly in the same “cute” bucket, you just hit it, Kristen. But here’s the kicker: kids are kids; those 50+ are you – in an older body. Our children are cute. We fuss more over respecting them than our elders. There’s something wrong with that picture.
Thank you, as always, for a close reading and a thoughtful response. (You are a pleasure.)
Why the commitment after 18 years together? Why did Gene Simmons marry Shannon Tweed after 28 years of living together? (Wikipedia)
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“Imagine yourself today… Now add twenty years. Hell, make that thirty.” The average life expectancy for a male is 81 (varies according to stats). My father died 2 days shy of his 80th birthday. I will be 60 this coming October. Will I be here in 20? Debatable. In 30? A definitive no. One big question answered.
Elsewhere I wrote about the 1977 television mini-series called the Thorn Birds. (Gettin’ old, man boobs and Vladimir Putin) It told the story of an elderly wealthy woman Mary (Barbara Stanwyck) who falls in love with a young handsome priest Ralph (Richard Chamberlain) who is half her age. I have never forgotten a scene between the two of them when Ralph rejects Mary’s advances suggesting she’s too old. (Stanwyck won an Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Limited Series.)
Ralph: You don’t love me.
Mary: I have always loved you. So much so I would have killed you for not wanting me. … But I’ve found a better method.
Ralph: No, not love. I’m the goad of your old age, that’s all. A reminder of what you can no longer be.
Mary: Let me tell you something Cardinal de Bricassart about old age and about that God of yours, that vengeful God who ruins our bodies and leaves us with only enough wit for regret. Inside this stupid body, I’m still young. I still feel. I still want. I still dream. And I still love you. Oh God how much.
Do we forget that the elderly are still “people” with hopes, dreams, and feelings? I guess the youngins tend to do that. I’ll let you know in October when I cross over to the Dark Side and am no longer able to “fake being middle age”. Ha!
I recall that scene in the Thornbirds well, Mr. Belle. And enjoyed your posts that you reference. You always write with a keen sense of the wry, and a willingness to research, reference, and address the gray areas. (Happy you stopped by.)
Yes, aging research points to our cultural insensitivity to aging populations. We call them “cute, sweet,” and other kid-like adjectives because we can’t fathom people in their 70’s-90’s actually liking sex. Aging researchers postulate that it comes from our own fear of aging – a fear that will continue until we (especially women) are allowed to age in popular culture.
I read your article yesterday and had to really think about my response to that couple marrying. Like you, I wondered why they decided to take the plunge. Maybe they felt that tying the knot would be a symbolic gesture as they draw closer to the end of their productive lives? I don’t know.
I do know that relationships are scary, especially when it comes to marriage after divorce and other forms of break-ups. I wonder if I would get married again if Ben and I were to ever divorce or if he were to die. At this point, I can’t see that happening. I wouldn’t want that to happen. I enjoy our relationship that has taken so long to cultivate and I don’t think I’d want to do it all over again with someone else.
I believe it happens much younger than age 70, Amber. Certainly younger for women, especially if they allow their hair to gray.
As for finding difficulty that women (in particular) could still like (or want) sex, much less be (or feel) desirable, that’s a great (and in my opinion, valid) point.
In other cultural settings (and other days), socializing crossed generations, and the intermingling of the ages was both energizing and facilitated feeling you were still part of something. As much as I believe that as we age, we will refashion communities to accommodate our elders (‘unassisted older living” for example), I can’t help but think that individuals of all ages would be better served by communities that intermix by age and stage, as we once did more naturally.
I do wonder why it’s so hard in this culture to believe that those of a certain age, both men and women, don’t still like and want sex? That any pairing is purely for companionship?
Yes, relationships are scary. I quite agree with you, Amber. But for some of us, oh so worth it, even if we have to fight that fear.
Thank you for a wonderfully rich response.
By the way, Amber – I’ve often thought it would be an interesting experiment to dye my hair entirely silver, my eyebrows, likewise, wear absolutely no makeup, dress nicely, and then walk through a crowd or attend some sort of function where I don’t know anyone. I’d like to see what notice, if any, I would have.
I would like to then do the same, dying my hair and brows back, with my usual modicum of (brightening) makeup, the same outfit, and seeing the result.
I have my suspicions as to the difference, but it would be interesting – or some other experiment that seemingly fades us out and makes us invisible.
I’ll woman up and try to give my point of view on those important questions for you, BLW, although I may beg to differ on certain points.
Do I think that there’s ultimately a reason why we owe our elders respect beyond the fact that everyone ought to be accorded respect?
Ultimately, no. No more than I demand respect from my children because I am stronger, know more, have lived longer and have more experience than they have.
I expect them to listen, because I believe I have the job to prepare them the best I can and they’re bound to learn a thing or two, just because I’ve been at this longer.
And yet sometimes they are the one who know more, and teach me a thing or two. Of importance. Not pandering here : most people with kids I suspect have had the experience.
By the same token, I don’t think I give more respect to elders than I strive to give anybody else. I listen though, because I’m bound to learn a thing or two, or more.
And attention, compassion and care for the diminishing strength of people in their old age make sense to me.
“Damn right you want respect!” : used to be a lot like that. I’m getting away from that with divorce, of all things. Expectations lead me to suffering and anger, with little positive results I must say. I still wish for respect, and not just for me. I strive not to expect anymore.
I imagine myself in 30 years.
Will I still have feelings? I hope so.
Will I still love sex? I don’t know. Libido comes and goes, and I’m still me. And companionship is fine too, whatever the age.
Beauty? In my eyes and in my heart, yes.
Will I be contributing? If health permits.
Will I still have dreams? Again, I hope so.
A better inner? Possibly. Depends what inner we’re talking about.
What if I lose my mind? What of Alzheimer’s? What if my body gives? Will I still be me? Yes, I believe. And any the less me for it? Ultimately no, I believe, which will leave me deserving of the same respect I now wish for.
But it’s a faith that will have to stand the test of time and old age I suppose.
So will I be furious if someone dismissively calls me “precious”. I can’ t predict but I’m shooting for mildly irritated at worst to frankly amused at best.
But of course I sympathize with your outrage, though I differ.
With all due respect, of course. 🙂
Respect noted, Alain. And I suspect that you give your respect to all, thus don’t need to give “more” to your elders. You may also be of a more moderate temperament than yours truly. Your mild amusement would be my considerable pique.
Et il faut dire, franchement, que votre anglais m’impressionne..
I’m 54. Stopped coloring my hair and wearing makeup about 10 years ago. In all honesty I have found it’s nice to be invisible to a seeming majority when I’m out and about in the larger world. I get more done this way with far fewer distractions and interruptions. Then I can get back to the things that really light up my soul – gardening, writing, artwork, and certainly not last or least, sex with my husband. But there’s one thing I noticed very quickly and with profoundly mixed emotions.
The expression on other female’s faces as they noted my naturally gray hair and lack of makeup was one of pure unadulterated terror. If they were close to my own age I’ve presumed this mirrored the fact that they knew good and well they “really” looked a lot like me underneath all the frenetic appearance oriented spin doctoring. If they were younger a quickly flash of fear was immediately tempered with glares of obvious disapproval and an apparent certainty that *they* would never let themselves go. This is the way we as women are conditioned to see our unaltered appearance as time shifts the way we look and, thus, whatever choices we make in the names of denial or acceptance – as a sign of not caring to make the socially proscribed effort rather than sufficient confidence to live outside of manufactured norms.
I think it’s pathetic frankly. Plus even as a much younger person I never understood why it’s something of a cultural imperative to view elder sexuality as disgusting or dismissive joke fodder. Just last weekend I came down a little hard on my 27 year old son because I had grown irritated with his periodic expression of something I called casual ageism. He was mortified and more than a little defensive. But later in the evening he thanked me for pointing it out because he felt it was an unacceptable tendency. And … demanding respect is a very different creature than commanding it by simple virtue of feeling it from the inside out, no?
Thank you for joining the conversation, Acey, and for sharing your experience. “Casual ageism” is a very apt term for what takes place, all the time.
I’ll take Barbara Stanwyck, any age.