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Essay: 'Wild Strawberries'

Why is it that older people tend to become mean and bitter; that instead of becoming a nurturing force, they become destructive, particularly to youngsters?

Sebastian Partogi (The Jakarta Post)
Jakarta
Mon, April 10, 2017

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Essay: 'Wild Strawberries' A still from 'Wild Strawberries' (ingmarbergman.se/File)

I

have fond memories of my late grandmother, who took care of me after my parents divorced. I remember her being very compassionate toward me, which was the sort of treatment I had never received, nor could I expect, from my own parents. So when she died in March 2013, it was a phenomenal loss for me and I don’t think I have recovered.

My Joan of Arc is not here anymore; but to look at the silver lining, it does motivate me to become Joan of Arc myself and hopefully I am able to provide the same spirit of compassion to the young — particularly when it’s my turn to be part of the older generation.

Although my grandmother is not here anymore, I do have some great relationships with some of my teachers, who are also older than me. With them, I find also the great love and compassion that goes beyond blood ties.

Because of this positive experience, I generally feel good whenever I think of older people; they seem to be a source of comfort and joy for a younger person like myself.

Not all old people, grandmothers or grandfathers, however, are nice. When she was younger, singer and songwriter Tori Amos often talked about her “strict Christian grandmother” who often punished her for not “having enough love for Jesus.” I, myself, went through an experience recently that showed me how being older does not always mean wiser. Sometimes people grow meaner and bitter as they get older.

The parents of a friend of mine are in their 60s and I like them because they provide me the intellectual stimulation I need. They are the sort of people who have high intellectual capabilities; but they are not necessarily the people you want to hang out with too frequently because they will suck the life out of you, emotionally.

When I first met them during a visit to my friend’s house a few years ago, I tried to maintain a safe distance; but, intentionally or not, they started to cross the line and became overly critical toward me. They began to bully me.

My friend now deliberately lives far away from his parents because he is also feeling the sting of their post-power syndrome (they used to work and assume powerful positions at major companies). He is actually wondering: why do I even bother to spend so much time with his “toxic” parents when he himself, their biological child, can’t stand their behavior and chooses to stay away?

I actually tried to stay away from them for a couple years, because I also found being close to them to be mentally exhausting for me. In fact, I learned that they are generally mean to everybody. And they love nothing more than to criticize others. Nothing others do seems to be good enough for them, and everyone else is always in the wrong.

Owing to certain circumstances, however, I reunited with them. For a while I attempted to tolerate their “mean” behavior but in no time I felt like I was being poisoned by a certain food; I became cranky and sensitive and exhausted. My friend advised me to stay away from them because I was too sensitive. So I do to save my energy.

But a question persists in my mind: why is it that older people tend to become mean and bitter; that instead of becoming a nurturing force, they become destructive, particularly to youngsters?

I have a friend named Purnama, who is also a writer and she seems to be fascinated with the psychological dynamics of older people. She has actually done some field research, read some books, watched a number of films and written a number of pieces on the subject matter. I haven’t poured my heart out to her about these two “mean” old people yet but I can imagine what she is going to say to me in response.

She actually mentioned one line of a poem, I can’t remember what it was and who wrote it, but it basically reads, “teach me to become old” or something like that. It takes me to a film by Swedish director Ingmar Bergman called Wild Strawberries (1957), also given to me by her.

The film’s story is rich and multilayered, but it mostly centers on a stubborn and egotistical professor, Isak Borg, who specializes in bacteriology.

The most arresting part of the story is the idea of Borg being chased around by his regrets and inability to come to terms with his past as he careened toward death. All his failings and unfulfilled dreams and pain come back to haunt him and this has turned him into a really mean person.

As suggested by the line of the poem, whose author I don’t seem to remember, it does take a lot of work to process and ingest our experiences, particularly the bad and painful ones, as we careen toward old age. I, myself, at 27, find that sometimes I’m haunted by all the perceived failings in my life, the painful memories and the burden of could haves, should haves and must haves.

The past can’t be fixed. What happens when we fail to sublimate and form abstractions of our own unfulfilled dreams and misfortunes and let them accumulate and become huge mountains when we live long enough to reach old age? I probably would hate myself.

I have begun to have compassion for the couple. Taking them as a cautionary tale, I really want to continuously work on my own inner life, processing all experiences, good or bad, so that instead of harvesting poisonous bitterness, I could harvest compassion and care for the suffering of others by making sense of my own troubles. I want to become like my role models, my teachers and grandmother who is nurturing and patient and compassionate, instead of mimicking the mean couple’s behaviors.

Sounds like a pretty tough job, but it’s good to be aware about what kind of old people we want to be — that is if we live long enough to grow older.

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