One of the most interesting parts of "The Social Animal" is the fact that the author spent much more time exploring the lives of his main characters in the years after they turned 30. I figured that he'd focus on those "coming-of-age" moments during the vibrant, active, exploratory younger years. After all, isn't the best time of people's lives their 20's?
In fact, when asked, many people say that the age they'd least like to return to is that period between high-school and "middle-age" (which we tend to think of as beginning around 30). David Brooks presents this time as a big messy journey; a day-to-day, cutthroat, stressful period that's really just a psychic mess. It's like a purgatory between the operational growth of the younger years and the meaningful journeying of those years past 30.
I couldn't agree with him more. In our society we purport this belief that once you hit a certain age, usually between 30 and 50, you've basically become "who you are" and can't expect to change much. After that there's some years of smooth sailing, when you live with your partner, have kids, maybe move a couple of times, enjoy a stable job or two, and begin planning for your retirement. Then you retire and either spend your time being silly and useless, taking care of grandchildren, or fighting off your doom. There's a common understanding that as you get older you become less able to "learn:" you function more slowly and are less likely to undertake in the sorts of activities that educate you, unless it's a lecture that you may be able to dose during and still retain some information about.
In fact, all sorts of statistics show that this idea is unfounded. As David Brooks justifies, when placed in stressful work environments those employees over the age of 55 respond just as rapidly and also more logically than their younger counterparts. Moreover, when asked to learn tasks and recall memorized facts the older generation does it just as well and often with more accurately. Given the increasing longevity of our lives, our retirees may live 40-50 years without the stress of a job, partaking in the sorts of exra- and intra- exploration that we assume is only for the young. Plus, they have the time and wisdom to really dive into their topics, allowing them to create the sort of cognitive linkages that create true knowledge. There's nothing silly or useless about getting old.
The other day I was thinking about my parents and recalling again how difficult it must be to raise children. I sometimes wonder if one of the reasons I don't want to have kids is because it will force me to question every idea I have come to cherish, force me to doubt the means and morals that guide my life. I think having kids must be like venturing to a foreign country: you look at your map and apply for your passport but truly have no idea what to expect. When you get there you're observant and reactionary, waiting for the next new event to pop up and hoping you've got just enough knowledge not to get yourself into trouble. We expect, even demand, that our parents have it together, that they be some sort of stoic pond of wisdom. But I've watched my parents grow with me every step of the way. It's that growth, the ability to admit wrongs, learn from mistakes, and apply new messages to their lives that makes them good parents.
When I think about the guidance that my parents and grandparents provide I think about how they feel like a strong wall, right up against my back, ready to offer a steadying presence. By connotation, this sort of presence seems opposite to the chaotic and confusing fluctuations of "growth." But, the ability to be strong and wise while undertake self and world-exploration are not mutually exclusive. The difference lies in the rate at which one explores and the way they navigate such a relationship. My grandparents and parents are calmer in their growth; they evaluate things with a certain understanding that it may change. They see the world as being parts of a puzzle and take each piece as it comes. They portray a sense of careful, calm willingness. They don't freak out.
That's what growing means. It doesn't mean going through puberty and slamming on the breaks. It means learning how to mature and committing to that process, forever. It means growing in conjunction with those around you. It means that this is not the only time I have to establish "who I am" and "figure it all out." I've got, like, 80 more years.
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