ELDER HATRED

This elderly woman with a walker was harassed by Antifa outside a Hamilton, Ontario event. 

I was not prejudiced against the old when I was young. Middle aged people, like my parents, and older children, like my brother, caused me the most grief. Old people, like my grandparents and even older folks, always seemed safe. Even those who obviously didn't like young boys were not to be feared. They could be won over with good manners and intelligent speech.

But that wasn't an age of mass addiction to trends. Heritage and old wisdom mattered, no matter the sex, race or ethnicity of the bearers. The things I learned from old people were as much a part of my education as the textbook contents of my college courses. 

My second job at caring for the sick entailed taking care of post-stroke patients in a small community hospital. I was trying to decide whether or not to go to nursing school after teaching two years as a science teacher in a private secondary school. 

I was twenty-three. I wrestled with my maleness because I was ordered about by seasoned ex-military female nurses with little concern for my opinions about anything. It was their realm. Any distasteful job having to do with male anatomy of patients became my province. Pubic hairs need to be shaved before routine surgeries. Catheters needed to be inserted. Bed baths and enemas, not in that order, needed to be administered. 

The one saving grace of the job was the advanced age of the female nurses themselves. They were all approaching retirement age. They were, for the most part, grandmothers. One was a great grandmother. I had deep respect, even for the least gracious of them. 

It is hard to explain to generations who feel that YouTube has the audio-visual answer to anything. The women who taught me the etiquette and ethics of physical care were sages. There were experts. They were also as close to saints as any of the human beings I have ever met.

When one of our ancient patients surfaced from a month-long coma after a severe stroke, he said to me, "Paul, thank you for everything, and I want you to know you should pursue a career in nursing." He died hours later. That and the tutelage of my nurse mentors convinced me to go to nursing school. 

My gay male environment outside of work was polluted with elder hatred. Anyone over forty in a gay bar was liable to be scorned. I never understood it. The rare older gay man in a bar who was not pickled by alcoholism was often the most interesting. Stories of the days before Stonewall always fascinated me. I learned that my generation did not invent gay culture. Ours was different, but it had evolved from theirs. That made me feel grateful that they survived against the odds they had to face.

Recently, as I crossed a busy local intersection, a group of older male high school students at the end of their school day were also crossing near me. The obvious jokester of the group nudged several and nodded in my direction. His companions gawked over their shoulders at me as they walked ahead. The jokester then proceeded to do a loud riff on how I looked ninety. He physically mimicked a limping and gnarled elderly person, resembling Igor in Frankenstein movies. The bunch took off at a faster pace after a giddy bout of laughter.

My immunity to adolescents is pretty high. I was an atypical one, and I taught them for two years. But this was different. This was a public shaming of sorts, based solely on my white hair and creased skin. My posture is actually quite erect, and I still walk at a good pace. This mockery was tinged with true malevolence against the elderly.

I have dismissed the occasional off-hand ageism of Twitter so far. But it is there. I have seen the hatred spewed at older Americans who supported Trump for President because he spoke their language. I have also noted the constant rumble by younger people against Social Security, as though they have no recourse in the mishandling of that great social asset by corrupt politicians. It seems they think we old people, who worked for our benefits, have conspired to deprive them. We haven't.

I understand the communication gap that can occur between generations. Hard as I tried for over 50 years, I could not overcome my own parents' inability to comprehend the natural process of homosexuality in my life. But there is a difference between struggling with those gaps and simply dismissing elderly people as irrelevant or as worthy of contempt. 

I recently saw a video of a group of masked Antifa protesters blocking and harassing an elderly couple on the street. These cretins are domestic terrorists, of course. The most striking element of that video was the absence of effective support of those old people by anyone in their vicinity. Perhaps that speaks more loudly of a general antipathy toward the elderly than the actions of the Antifa terrorists who openly voiced it.