14. Chaser Goes First (Respect Your Elders)
Chaser Goes First: Respect Your Elders
A bunch of us lingered around the appetizer table, glasses of wine in hand. Then the murmurs began. I was with several of my friends, all of them mums of teenagers.
“Would you let your kid say that?”
Or, “But it’s so disrespectful! I just can’t stand hearing it.”
Another: “That would never have flown when I was a teenager, I’ll tell you that.”
What was the subject of their ire? Were the kids hurling obscenities at their teachers? Were they screeching and pounding the floor in toddler-like tantrums? Were they enticing the adults to partake in their weed? (Okay, so that last one was just for effect. My friends and I were far too nerdy to partake in weed, even back then).
No. The source of the adults’ indignation was this: the kids had referred to their parents’ friends by their first names!
I grew up in an era when children addressed adults to whom they weren’t related as “Mr. So-and-So” or “Mrs. So-and-So” (replacing “So-and-So” with their actual surnames, of course). We never used given names. It was just something you did; it was considered polite, deferential and entirely expected.
Did that mean we had more respect for older people than kids do today? (Um, I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it might incriminate me).
Back then in the pre-internet Dark Ages, we did what our parents told us to do. Basically, until we were in our 20s, we didn’t question the authority of the older generation.
In fact, most of us never talked back to bosses or teachers, either (and those who did were immediately branded “problem children,” clearly raised without common civility or discipline of any sort—basically, little savages).
We never swore in our parents’ presence. If one of my sisters or I were caught emitting obscenities, we would have been grounded for a week. (Oh, wait, that actually did happen to one of my sisters).
In other words, we respected our elders–sometimes, even, when it didn’t make much sense.
The thing was, adults took respect for granted and were taken aback when it wasn’t delivered. In my 30s, I once argued with my dad about how much an ATM machine would dispense within a 24-hour period. He repeatedly insisted I was wrong (I wasn’t) and wouldn’t accept my supported-by-facts explanation. Despite the fact he’d never used an ATM machine himself.
Looking back, I wonder if he secretly knew he’d made a mistake. Yet he didn’t seem able to concede; what incensed him most, I believe, was my refusal to agree with him simply because he was older and therefore “knew better.”
When I was in high school and my mom’s friends came over to play mahjong, if I happened to wander into the kitchen (ostensibly to get a glass of water; in reality, to sneak some of the Bridge Mix and Allsorts she provided for them), it was unheard of for someone like me to refuse a request for “a glass of soda” when asked. Even if the woman asking was actually closer to the fridge than I was and had the empty glass already in her hand.
Now that I’m a bit older myself, the concept of respect for those of more advanced years hits home even harder.
I was appalled (to put it lightly) at the treatment of nursing home residents during the pandemic. People who’d lived long lives–sometimes nine decades or more–were separated from all those who loved them, from any familiarity in their lives and forced to die alone, often confused and scared and wondering where their family had gone.
Is this how we treat old people in our modern society? We should be ashamed of ourselves.
Dogs, at least, have an innate sense of the age-related hierarchy and the prerogative that comes with advanced years. Even though Zoey is what you might call an “assertive” canine (okay, she’s bossy, loud, in-your-face and all around annoying), she knew instinctively that Chaser, because she was the senior dog, deserved some respect.
I saw it happen at various times and on various occasions. Chaser, naturally timid and reserved, would never push her way past Zoey to get to the water bowl or the human’s caressing hand, for instance.
And yet, when a stranger appeared at the door and both dogs ran (well, Chaser kind of hobbled) to see who it was, Zoey naturally hung back to allow her older sister the prime spot at the window. And when Chaser happened to be outside in the backyard, Zoey would even alert us to her presence so Chaser didn’t have to wait too long.
Before Zoey had any concept of “respect.” . . . .
Dogs know it; why don’t we? Recently, there was quite a hullabaloo on the internet around “drag story hours” for kids. These “family friendly” events featured drag queens in various degrees of undress reading to kids as young as three or four. I’m not interested in debating whether this is appropriate or not; I’ll let you make up your own mind.
What caught my eye, however, was one response to the fray. Someone suggested, “Hey, instead of drag queens reading to kids, why not get some seniors in there? They wouldn’t even need to read–they all have loads of their own stories.”
I loved that idea, not only because it would bring the generations together and allow kids to recognize value in their seniors (and allow the elders to find value in their own lives), but also because it would honor the important role that old folks play in our society.
We used to understand that the aged among us confer wisdom, experience, knowledge and advice that can provide key guidance and support to those of us coming after. Nowadays, it feels like those bonds have been severed and we see the senior population as nothing more than a burden (and a boring one, at that).
Given a chance, our elderly have much to offer us, if only we were willing to accept it.
So this week, in honor of our sweet departed Chaser, let’s give some love and respect to someone who’s made it to a ripe old age. No doubt it will brighten their day–and yours.
Follow up to last week’s challenge: Let it Go. How did it go?
Perhaps not surprising, but I’m not exactly an Olympic medalist at this “let it go” business. Of all the challenges so far, this one, I realized, is the most difficult for me.
As someone pointed out last week, the idea of letting things go is similar to the idea of forgiveness. While the latter allows you to release emotions around a person or event and still continue with the relationship or connection (if you choose to do so), the former allows you to sever the connection without having to stay in touch (literally–or emotionally).
It took me decades to let go some of the hurt and anger around my dad and what I perceived as unfair treatment at the time (and then, upon much reflection, I determined that he did, actually, treat me unfairly).
But I can say that, at the end, I’d both forgiven him and was able to let go of the need to try to “prove myself right” when we spoke. It made for a much more peaceful relationship.
In other areas, however, I seem loath to let go of things or people that don’t serve me. I began to feel discontent with my job many years before I finally cultivated the courage to leave. The funny thing? Once I was gone, I knew immediately that it was the right decision and I should have done it earlier. (I left eight years ago and some days, can’t even believe I ever worked at the place).
Does it still count as “letting go” if it takes years to accomplish it? Hell, yeah.
Maybe the lesson from this challenge is that I should let things go much sooner. It certainly would have saved me a lot of anguish and hand-wringing.
How about you? Let me know in the comments.
And now, I’d love to hear from YOU! (actually, I implore you! Leave a comment and let me know someone is out there. What do you think? You can answer a question or leave an observation, idea, or any other comment. I promise to respond!).
Is there someone of advanced years in your life whom you admire? What about them do you like?
Did you call your parents’ friends by their first names? Did it feel weird, or natural?
How well do you let things go that no longer serve you? Do you hang on for decades like I do–or do you cut them loose sooner? (If the latter, how do you manage that? I really need to know).
As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoy Be the Dog, please consider recommending it to someone else–or becoming a paid subscriber to support me and my writing. I’d be eternally grateful either way!