Old Persons vs. Oldness

I don't know why more people don't have scarves. They're so comfortable, they're so warm, and (in most cases) they're so stylish. I don't know how I lived before scarves. I don't think I did. I think I was dying.

In aaaaany case, there's a huge difference between old people and old people (notice the italics). The former is a person who is numerically old, which is merely a number-line comparison. The latter is a person who has become one or more form of crotchety.

For a long time, I've been trying to figure out what qualifies a person as an adult. For now, I figure people become adults when they start listening. I like this criterion because it easily explains why so many chronological "adults" behave like children: they don't listen; they just scold and pout. But I've also wondered what makes a person old. That one is tougher, but it seems like the stage in which a person stops listening. Partially, it's not a very satisfying criterion because it's hardly distinguishable from childishness. Partially, it makes perfect sense because the negative portions of childishness and oldness are congruent: helpless, demanding, irritable.

Now, please understand that I am not trying to malign people who have been alive many years. To the contrary, I am trying to emphasize the dignity that our ancients carry by contrasting being old from oldness.

Oldness: I know of too many young and middle-aged people who seem to have no time for others. That is oldness. I know of people who always talk and never listen. That is oldness. I know of people who refuse to be told there are other ways of thinking about things. That is oldness. I know of people who always think they are right and simply bull through any kind of correction. That is oldness.

In contrast, there are old people, wonderful ancients.

This little ramble was inspired by an old man named Gary who rolls into Starbucks every once in a while. He has a roller chair. I've been unable to interpret what his predicament is since he has trouble speaking, but it seems like something paralyzed half of his body. One hand is agile while the other rests in his lap. His face is mostly kind and alert, but one corner of his mouth sags a bit. When he walks, it is slowly with a cane and more heavily on one leg.

I like Gary. I wish I could understand him because he seems like such a lighthearted, warm old man. Gary is a great ancient. He is definitely old, but he has no oldness.