Age discrimination

I'm beginning to feel othered, and dismissed as an absurd and possibly dangerous irrelevancy. The people in the news seem to be predominantly much younger people - under thirty, anyway - and their growing restiveness and rebelliousness over certain issues is contrasted with old people's complacency, set ways and behind-the-times views.

So what's new? Has there ever been an age when the older generation hasn't been ridiculed/resented/regarded as a waste of space? I don't think so. I can remember the summer of 1968, when students and young people everywhere seemed to become rebels. There was indeed a lot to rebel against. In the States there was the Viet Nam war, the segregation of black people in the Land of the Free, and the out-of-control repressions of the police. In Western Europe it was the turgid policies of the fat-cat Establishment. Students imposed a complete shut-down of Paris, for instance. Behind the Iron Curtain, brave - perhaps reckless - young people took on Russian tanks. It was all basically a series of flare-ups against the smug rule of old men.

I don't think older people have ever had a completely warm and sunny reputation. Too many have feathered their nests at the expense of the young. Too many have exercised power and control at the expense of the young. Who called the shots when you were a child? Mum and Dad, and a host of aunts and uncles. Who had the whip hand at school? The teachers. Who marked your exam papers? The teachers again. Who made you sweat at work? The bosses. Only in older life did it seem that the scales could tip the other way. That's been my experience - as every year passed I got more opportunity to run my own life, and finally do things my way, with nobody older to push me around. Now, at almost sixty-eight, and retired almost fifteen years, I feel I can do whatever I please, and certainly kick other people if I choose, and all with a certain immunity.

Of course, I'm not going to do that. I'm not even on a mission to rectify past injustices. I can see that perhaps I deserved some of the bad things dished out to me from time to time. In any case, only the present and the future matter. And I do have a long future yet. At least potentially. I want to be seen as somebody who is going to be useful and active for a long time to come.

This said, I've moved into the 'older' category, and a lot of younger people will stick labels on me that say 'Slow person - pass by' or 'Another oldie in the way' or 'Dependent on our taxes' or 'Do not resuscitate'. Perhaps even 'Waiting for God' and 'On Death Row already'.

One of the things that irks me is that although mentally I'd put myself around age forty-six, it's assumed that my mind is slipping away and soon I'll be gaga, dribbling from the mouth, and a burden on society. Really.

For instance, in just over two years time, at seventy, I'll have to complete forms to self-certify my continued capacity to drive a car. What? Maybe that used to be a problem for my parents' generation, but things have moved on, and I'd definitely say that unless one's body has been wrecked with drink and drugs, most seventy year olds are in a good state and perfectly alert and fit. At least, the ones I know. We haven't become doddering, short-sighted old fogies, a menace to every other road user. And I'm probably correct in saying that a great many eighty year olds remain similarly alert and fit.

This 'I'm older, but can still outpace a slobby twenty-five year old who lives on cheeseburgers' frame of mind is partly what lies behind my own lack of interest in getting a free bus pass. I don't want to queue up with the kind of old people who use buses. I don't want to queue in the cold wind, full stop. I don't want to shorten my lifespan sitting on a steamed-up bus with brochially-challenged geriatrics coughing and sneezing all around me. But I particularly don't want to be perceived as a person living life in the Very Slow lane. I want to buzz around in a fast car, covering distance, and going to places that the bus never goes.

In fact I'm willing to pay handsomely for running a car. It makes me independent - and empowered. And nobody can say that I'm sponging on the State, or the local council. As they could, if I applied for a free bus pass. Even though I'm fully entitled to one, and have been since the end of 2014.

I do wonder, however, what will happen if ever the Young Rebels take over and decide that people like me are too old to count, and must toe the line in every way, accepting only the handouts they allow, and all the restrictions they will impose, so that the young can have the best of whatever's going. On pain of social exclusion and inevitable death, presumably. There's a word for a society ruled by its younger members, but I can't recall what it is. But I assure you I will. It's just a passing Senior Moment, not remembering what that word is.

Where was I?

Maybe a time will come when I'll start to back-pedal on admitting what my real age is. Not out of vanity, but from fear of being discriminated against, and possibly being denied certain enjoyments or even necessities, because I am deemed too old for them, or can't have them by law.

That's it, I'll be an Old Rebel. I'll learn to live under cover, with a new name, a new identity, and a new wardrobe. I'll make people believe I'm years younger than I really am. I may have to learn new ways, a new way of speaking, a new way of walking, and attend classes to lose weight and stay fit. Seems like a tall order, but if the old get oppressed and marginalised, then that's how it'll have to be. And surely, I've done it before, for another reason? I wish I could remember.