Behind the mask

Editor’s note: This is another in a series of occasional columns by long-time Ann Arbor resident Robert Faber on what he describes as his most recently acquired area of expertise - growing old.

For a while in my 40s, I sported a great bushy black beard, a thick mustache and got a crew cut. I don’t know that it did much for my appearance, but I enjoyed an unreasonable degree of comfort in the anonymity it seemed to provide, experiencing a certain sense of security in being able to thus hide my face and feeling behind my mask. (An unexpected but very gratifying benefit was the simplicity and speed of my morning routine - no shaving and no combing.) I have since come to the conclusion that the mask of age serves much the same purpose.

One of the truths of old age, although less clear to those still struggling to reach it, is that except for having been around longer, the old are really very little different from what they were when they were young - essentially the same saps or savants and as foolish or profound as in their earlier years.

Robert Faber

They are the same people, simply with more experience under their belts. How they use that experience is a reflection more of their essence than of their longevity.

While the wrinkled skin adds a sense of mystery to the moment, the reality is that with the accumulation of decades, the antique survivors are given credit for wisdom and insights that had never really been a part of their inventory.

As an example of my own senior standing, for instance, I often find myself categorized by my juniors as somewhere between a sage (nice, but unlikely) and something approaching a doddering old fool (I do not dodder). The fact, however, is simply that I am still me - the same me as before, but older.

That does not mean we don’t change with age, simply that it’s not necessarily for the better nor that we have become more wise. Merely that we have lived through more experiences and may, as a consequence, have learned a bit more (may have learned more - but not necessarily).

A part of the problem is the natural deterioration that plagues the human animal. The world is changing and our perception of the world is changing even faster, but as we age fewer of us are able or willing to deal with those changes. Too many of us have lost our passion - we have simply stopped trying. We have given in to the debilitating platitudes that are used to define old age and have accepted that status.

It’s easier than fighting.

And that, in turn, may account for some of the increasing conservatism of older people. I had often wondered why the old tended to be so much more conservative than the young, why young firebrands changed direction with age.

Having long identified myself as a liberal, I would hate to think the wisdom I had acquired over decades of trial, error and observation were no more significant than the coarsening of my skin and the graying or losing of my hair. I suspect instead that conservatism, as the counterpoint to liberalism, wins out simply because it requires less thought, less challenge, less activity.

This is not to denigrate the role of conservatism, but recognizes its purpose as a protector of values or procedures that have proven valid and successful in the past. Conserving the best parts of our heritage is as valuable to our future as finding new ways to achieve old, but neglected goals.

And for old people who have lost their taste for fight, that can be a very appealing alternative to seeking radical new paths. It may be that we are fearful that if things go wrong we shall not have the time or strength to set them straight. Challenge, after all, can be work, often fueled by an energy increasingly scarce in most older citizens. It may generate new ideas not yet fully developed and that implies a responsibility that many seniors are no longer able to accept. Such change requires planning and arguing and convincing - and then it may all go nowhere or, if implemented, blow up in our face. Conservatism, on the other hand, requires standing guard.

Both political approaches are vital to the success of our democracy, but liberalism tends to be more a young person’s game, drawing on the idealism and energies more likely to fade with age.

But where we stand on the political platform is not really the critical factor. More beneficial to our heirs than the names of the victors or the identity of their party are the lessons we absorb and then impart to the emerging generations. The key, after all, is not so much the conclusion of each dispute, but the principles and the level of integrity guiding the process. No, age does not make us wise - it merely makes us old. But with those years - if we are lucky - it also makes us experienced and with that experience we are better able to draw conclusions not immediately obvious to the young. It may take all of our declining passions to take strong stands about our society, but I suspect those passions are more likely to strengthen us - both ourselves and our nation - than to drain us.

And it is certainly a whole lot better than giving up or giving in.

Bob Faber has been a resident of Ann Arbor since 1954. He and his wife, Eunice, owned a fabric store and later a travel agency. He served a couple of terms on the Ann Arbor City Council. He may be reached at rgfaber@comcast.net.