Something changes. It is difficult to describe how life progresses. Too often, I have thought I had figured out much only to be surprised yet again. Three recent events struck me in this regard. I have lamented the passing of time; see Ever Get Old (January 2025).
Last fall, I found the copier short of paper. A "copier" is a historical tool that some of us use to make duplicates of documents that are preserved in the form of various ink products affixed to mass-produced pulp products that result from cooking trees. It is fascinating in its own right, and I recommend gaining some experience with this so-called "paper" at some stage of your career.
The story proceeds with my loading two boxes of paper onto a hand truck and bringing it 75 feet to the copier. As I unloaded the "reams" (500 pages of "paper" wrapped in a separate paper package), a younger staff member approached and suggested that I let her stack the reams instead. She said, "Judge, you shouldn't be doing that."
She later insisted that this was not a comment on my disappearing (disappeared?) youth and vigor but was expressing some sentiment that my time would be better spent elsewhere. Nonetheless, the well-intentioned attempt to assist me left me feeling as if age was overtaking me.
I am somewhat known for frugality (which many pronounce "cheap"). Several months after the paper event, I was working on a project, and we needed some software help. I did not relish the headache of procuring through government channels and all that entails.
My team's efforts revealed a solution, whose benefits they explained to me. They then cautioned, however, "but there is a charge." Expecting something rather significant, I asked how much. The price that had brought trepidation? About $25.00. I asked the team, only somewhat joking, "do I not look like I could spend $25.00?" They assured me it was not that, but they had been reluctant to raise this solution nonetheless.
More recently, I found myself in a retail establishment. I was leaving with a small package in my hands, and a twenty-something young lady was entering carrying more significant burdens. Despite the disparity, the youth paused to hold the door for me, insisting. I thanked her as I passed, and she replied "Have a good day, sir."
Call me a genderist, but I was raised to stand up when introduced to a lady. It has been ingrained in me to use the terms "sir" and "ma'am," to the point I sense this periodically makes people uncomfortable. And, most critically, I was always taught that a man does the lifting, carrying, door holding, etc., for a lady.
Over the course of my several decades on this planet, I have striven to live these teachings. Suddenly, I am noticing that there is a deference. Perhaps that is the equality of this modern age? Maybe there is simply a greater appreciation today for ability and participation, and the gender norms of yesteryear (holding the door, lifting the paper, etc.) are antiquated and obsolete?
Or, there is a more chilling and sinister answer: Dave is getting (or perhaps "gotten") old. I would like to think that equality and equanimity are ruling the day. I would love to view this as merely the product of a new age; I hope that there is an expanding and profound egalitarianism spreading. But, I fear the fact is that is simply "age," that I am simply getting old, and the youth both perceive that and feel sorry for me.
Call me paranoid, but I am really hoping ... what were we talking about again?
