I developed a dislike, if not irritation, in the saying growing old / old age is not for sissies.
Arthur Gordon "Art" Linkletter (born 17 July 1912), a Canadian-American radio and television personality, wrote among several others Old Age is Not for Sissies (first published in 1988, ISBN 0670819220 and 0791714799).
The word sissy means "a timid or cowardly person; a little girl; an effeminate [having traits, tastes, habits, etc., traditionally considered feminine] boy or man". Also see the Urban dictionary and various translations.]
I find the statement rather arrogant and derogatory, because:
- Every phase of life has difficulties.
- People of all ages are subjected to most trying conditions.
- It implies masculine is stronger and the effeminate would not be able to cope with aging.
I recently spoke to a person of about seventy and remarked how lovely our holiday has been. He replied that retirement is one long holiday. Do not get me wrong, I am not implying that old age does not present challenges, I just cannot identify with the maxim.
When I did a search for the adage found a blog post starting with:
Some good friends, all met through blogging, are filling in for me while I take a two-week sabbatical from Time Goes By. Today's guest blogger is 79-year-old Chancy who blogs (avidly) at driftwood inspiration from Georgia where she was born and raised.
She has been married for 57 years, has three children and six grandchildren, four of whom, age 4 through 12, live nearby. "I was born to be a grandma," says Chancy, "and I am good at the job."
I also find the following post, which to my mind conveyed the opposite message to the author:
I have always dreaded old age. I cannot imagine anything worse than being old... How awful it must be to have nothing to do all day long but stare at the walls or watch TV.
So last week, when the mayor suggested we all celebrate Senior Citizen Week by cheering up a senior citizen, I determined to do just that. I would call on my new neighbor, an elderly retired gentlem an, recently widowed, who, I presumed, had moved in with his married daughter because he was too old to take care of himself.
I baked a batch of brownies, and, without bothering to call (some old people cannot hear the phone), I went off to brighten this old guy's day.
When I rang the doorbell this "old guy" came to the door dressed in tennis shorts and a polo shirt, looking about as ancient and decrepit as Donny Osmond.
"I'm sorry I can't invite you in," he said when I introduced myself, "but I'm due at the Racquet Club at two. I'm playing in the semi-finals today."
"Oh, that's all right," I said. "I baked you some brownies...."
"Great!" he interrupted, snatching the box. "Just what I need for bridge club tomorrow! Thanks so much!"
"...and just thought we'd visit a while. But that's okay! I'll just run across the street and call on Granny Grady...."
"Don't bother," he said. "Gran's not home; I know. I just called to remind her of our date to go dancing tonight. She may be at the beauty shop. She mentioned at breakfast that she had an appointment for a tint job."
I called my mother's cousin (age 83); she was in the hospital... working in the gift shop. I called my aunt (age 74); she was on vacation in China. I called my husband's uncle (age 79). I forgot; he was on his honeymoon.
I still dread old age, now more than ever. I just don't think I'm up to it.
I quizzed two teenagers about their views on who they believe have the more difficult circumstances. They were unanimous that it must be the teenagers; because they have to do as told and do not get paid for learning—whereas their parents bay what they want and get salaries for going to work. Within this response the ignorance is clearly evident. Similarly, the arrogance of people of age that claim "oud word is nie vir sissies nie" is equally evident.