The Benefits of Puerility

 

puerility - noun - quality of being a child; foolishness; silliness.

Yesterday, I had the distinct pleasure of turning 66 at the west end of Rt. 66–at Mel's Drive-In in Santa Monica. I invited 35 of my favorite people in Los Angeles, and twenty came to squeeze into a very long booth that spanned the length of the diner just to celebrate the milestone and to promise to contribute monetarily to two of my favorite charities. As the other half of the eatery was virtually devoid of customers, we took the liberty of celebrating with gusto, whooping it up, being noticeably puerile. You know. Being loud, raucous, immature. Like college kids at a frat party even though the majority of us culprits are in the fourth quarter of life. We weren't bothering anyone. No one complained. We were just having a good time. 

Case in point: Can there be benefits for those who behave like this? Can refusing to age graciously be beneficial? 

You bet.

Age is not a number, but this is something most of you who are in my box already know. It is a state of mind. If you think you are old, then you are. Here I am reminded of my former mother-in-law who got married out of high school, had two children–hardly taking a breath in between–and proceeded to agree to age rapidly because there was nothing better to do. By the time she was 66, she wasn't behaving like I did last night, sporting a red "Historic Route 66" T-shirt and a short skirt, laughing uproariously with her fellow revelers, pausing only to smooch with her seventy-year-old best beau (which would have been my former father-in-law) at Mel's on Lincoln. Nope. Mom was watching TV reruns of "Dallas," pausing only during breaks to light up a Marlboro and stare miserably at a series of commercials advertising such products as Listerine. Naturally, she died relatively young and unhappy only because she had no concept of joy. She consciously chose not to have any understanding of it. 

Those who aspire never to lose track of puerility know how to turn back the hands of time. They simply don't step into the shoes of society's antiquated expectations. They don't listen or answer when their grandkids ask why they ride Viros in and out of traffic. They don't understand what "age appropriate" means. They work out so that they look good in clothes that are designed for much younger people. They dye their hair. They intrinsically know that life is a lot less painful if they surround themselves with a variety of friends of different ages who hold onto humor as if it were a life vest in a turbulent sea. They know joy. They practice it every day by living dauntlessly, not caring what others might think of them. They give generously; they take when necessary. They love passionately. They forgive. They understand. They listen. They are as some say, "All in." And they smile wholeheartedly at the end of each day, knowing they sucked the marrow clean out of it.

Life as we all know is so very short. Why get old before your time? Why get old at all? It is not something that you are forced to do.  If you don't want to end up like my former mother-in-law, you are going to have to reset your mindset. Walk on the puerile side. You may live a lot longer, staying a lot healthier in the process. 

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"No One Mourns the Wicked": The Politics and Such of Wicked

 

political - adj. - relating to the government of a country

For as long as I can remember, children's fare–whether it be televised cartoons like the Peanuts series or live-action films like The Parent Trap–has catered more to the parents rather than to their young offspring. Of course, when I was seven watching network TV's It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown for the first time along with my sister, mom, and dad, I had no idea what Sally meant when she angrily vocalized, "I want restitution!" to a stunned Linus, but it didn't much matter as the character's body language spoke volumes. Still, the word haunted me until I was old enough to look it up in Webster's. The point I am trying to make in a roundabout way is that production companies that produce family movies have adults in mind because after all, the money is coming from their pockets; and they want to be entertained as well as their kids.

This holiday season's blockbuster Wicked is no exception. While visiting family in Utah over the Thanksgiving weekend, my cousin and I made sure to cue up at 11:30 a.m. for the first showing of the film at the local cineplex, thinking there would actually be a cue. There wasn't. In fact, only about six of us adults wound up in the theater. Oddly enough, there wasn't a single person under fifty in the house. Hmm. Perhaps the green of the Wicked Witch of the West or her prior reputation in the original version of Gregory Maguire's classic The Wizard of Oz kept the sensitive LDS families away, or perhaps they read enough about it to feel as though it was more of a PG-13 offering rather than a PG. They were right to veer on the side of caution. Although much of the suggestive content flies as high out of the range of juvenile comprehension as Wicked Witch Elphaba herself does on her broom at the close of the film, Wicked may not be designed for kids due to its political innuendoes. 

My daughter, a highly educated Millennial, was lucky enough to see the original Broadway show about seven times. The upbeat musical numbers and romantic subplot hooked her and multitudes of other fans. Throughout the years, though, due to her obsession, she managed to read the book on which the stage musical and film were based and began to understand the primary theme, which she recently texted to me as "the vilification of marginalized groups to maintain corrupt power structures." I kept thinking that by releasing the film just before the onset of Trump's presidency, Universal Pictures might be issuing a subtle forewarning to our mature society members who voted for him. During his first term, wasn't he the one responsible for locking immigrant children in cages at the Mexican border? Likewise in Wicked, the replacement professor for Doctor Dillamond, a literal old goat who is forced out of his position teaching history at fictitious Shiz University, displays a caged leopard cub, signifying to the class what the Wizard wants to do to the animals that have the ability to express themselves via language. Yikes. Albeit not exact, this is a clear parallel. Like it or not, Hollywood is expressing an opinion here, an opinion that isn't meant for youngsters to contemplate.  

Some of you are probably wondering whether or not I liked the movie. I did, but not for political reasons as I really deplore politics. Although I am in my late sixties, young matinee idols like Bridgerton's Jonathan Bailey who gives an Oscar-worthy performance as the romantic leading man Fiyero in the film, can still melt me sans any splash of water to the face. Despite being gay (and aren't the truly gorgeous guys always gay?) in real life, Jon is welcome to play the leading man in my dreams any time. 

Which brings me to something significant: the reason why we go to the movies. Most of us go to escape the drabness of reality that has grown sepia with familiarity. The emerald green of Wicked's Emerald City and Elphaba's visage shine vibrantly mainly because of talent. And green is the color of spring, of eternal youth, something we all would like to hold on to indefinitely. So grab a grandchild, daughter, son, or neighbor's teen and see Wicked if only to defy gravity for two hours and forty minutes. Mourn or don't mourn the wicked, your choice. (As a postscript: Another slightly less controversial theme that the movie implies is that there is no such concept as evil since the wicked are merely misunderstood. Politically speaking, we'll see about that :). )

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