June 19, 1996
Being sixty years old means a lot of things, notwithstanding pending expiration. For one thing, being of a different generation means adjustment problems associated with modern life. This is not an era when common sense and personal responsibility are taken for granted.
A few weeks ago, my wife purchased an unpainted cabinet to help give my office the appearance of greater orderliness. As any reasonable person would do, I read the instructions on the can of Minwax Polycrylic stain. The label also contained the following warning: “Do not take internally.” I wondered: Is there a person who'd turn a can of stain up to his lips to take a swig? If you think about it, the warning is useless. A person stupid enough to drink stain is also probably too stupid to read. So why the warning? My guess is the Minwax lawyers. Someone might drink Minwax stain, sue the company, and win a large settlement because an enlightened judge sees the company as being responsible for a person's stupid act.
Then there's America's children. I've spent a life loving children, not all, but most. Now, children are becoming my enemy. Children allow themselves to be used as tools for intrusive government. As soon as somebody mentions less government spending for school lunch programs, somebody else marches a child across the stage and accuses, “You want to starve this child!” When welfare reformers talk about forcing able-bodied people off welfare, the first thing you hear is, “You want to starve children!” When congressional tyrants want to restrict what we see on television, read on the information superhighway, or they want to stop adults from smoking, once again, children are used as tools. If America's children want to win back my love and faith in them, they must stop being used as tools for scoundrels. Children should call a press conference to tell the nation that if anybody wants to know what children want and think, ask children, not their unappointed spokesmen.
There's another adjustment problem for older men. I can't find it in me to treat ladies like men. When traveling on a public conveyance, I offer my seat to a lady if no other seats are available. When walking with a lady, I assume the curb position, not to mention holding doors open. Some see these acts as gentlemanly respect, others see them as contemptible, chauvinist pig insults. How does one tell, beforehand, a lady from a woman?
Then there's race. Today's race experts say that the pathology of many black lives is the result of a legacy of slavery, segregation, and racism. For these reasons, many black youngsters are illiterate, less than 40 percent of black children are raised in two-parent families, and black crime is rampant. But in 1950, when I attended North Philadelphia's Benjamin Franklin High School, we never heard of a kid who couldn't read. As early as 1870, in most major cities, close to 80 percent of black kids lived in two-parent families. Black neighborhoods, even the housing project where I lived, were safe enough to sleep outside on those hot, humid summer nights. How do you square the race experts’ claim that slavery and racism are responsible for today's problems with the facts of yesteryear? All I come up with is that slavery and racism can have delayed effects, skipping entire generations before their effects are manifested. But that doesn't seem plausible.
There's a light at the end of the tunnel to my adjustment to newfangled ideas and practices. The problems won't be with me as long as they have been already.