the tooth fairy cometh

(warning: this post may be harmful to your sense of well-being)

The young --

They preen and prance about in their bright new(bile) bodies, blissfully unaware. They strut their stuff with pride, as if youth were some sort of glorious personal achievement, attained through hard work and sacrifice. Right. To them, 20 or 30 years from now is like the Civil War -- an eternity away. Future, past, who cares? It's not now. Now is everything. Past is prologue; future postscript.

Another tooth is bothering me. This one is my lower right molar, unopposed since I lost the top one years ago. It's apparently super-erupted, ie growing out of its socket because nothing is pushing it down. Like a dead relative rising from the grave to give us one more year of grief at Xmas. (We really should have paid for the mausoleum.)

My teeth are dead, mostly. Root-canaled and/or crowned, thanks to modern dentistry. Embalmed, dead teeth, buried deep in my gums; their fake heads sticking out, to fool the neighbors into thinking the family is still alive and well. I guess I should be thankful; years ago, my genetic and nutritional deficiencies would have simply resulted in another toothless old crocker spitting chewing tobacco and eating mush for dinner. Thank god for cosmetic technology. I may not have heaving balloon breasts like Pamela Anderson, but at least I have my (fake, dead) teeth.

I don't know why this particular aspect of aging bothers me so much. It started with some simple phobias about complications (my usual hypochondria); but it's progressed to something much deeper. I'm not particularly afraid of the dental appointment per se; once I've resigned myself to the inevitability of the procedures (it's always plural), I get a grim satisfaction out of seeing it through. It's that first rush of fear, shame, and loathing I feel when I first become aware of a new pain in my mouth, and the realization that another chink in my armor against old age and death has been pierced. I suspect it's a bit like what a Space Shuttle astronaut feels when he sees a chunk of heat shield fly off into outer space. OK, that's probably worse; but those guys & gals are bred and chosen for bravery, so I'm comfortable equating their much more realistic fear with my neurotic one.

What kind of god would invent dental problems and old age? Not a nice one, surely. A bitter, evil, narrow-minded God; a petty and vengeful God. An asshole, basically. I'm supposed to bow down to this sort of indignity, as if it's my lot in life? Puhleez.

Today I was at a college campus, and I saw someone handing out fliers to vote for a student election. Out of curiosity, I approached the flier person. While reflexively holding out a pamphlet, he casually looked me over and said, "You're probably too old to vote." I mentioned that I was being carded at bars less than 10 years ago; we both laughed. I moved on.

There are subtle aspects of aging that probably can't be eradicated no matter what the physical situation is. Once you aquire enough experience to see the shape of the world, you inevitably lose an innocence that is born of ignorance. You can't put the genie back in the bottle. When you've seen people treat each other like crap, take cynical advantage of those less powerful, and wrap it up with sanctimonious, righteous bullshit, it's hard to keep an open heart. That won't change, even if the fountain of youth is discovered.

Maybe it's a good thing that old people look old. Otherwise, we would have beautiful, ageless, bitter, cynical burn-outs wandering about. Not that everyone who gets old becomes bitter and cynical, but a good percentage do. It's inevitable.

There are young folk who act like they already have their life behind them. They are bitter and cynical even now, at what to me looks like the prime of youth. 33 year old women who fear they won't find a life mate before their biological clock runs out. 22 year old actor/waiter types who fret that their teen looks are gone, and they haven't gotten their big break. Time is running out. Tenure-track professors don't do well after 35. You can't be a professional athlete these days unless you pick your sport and start training by six or even younger.

The culture of youth is pervasive and insidious. By 36, you are no longer part of the 'coveted 18 to 35 demographic'. Advertisers no longer can count on your mindless brand loyalty to the last product message you saw. If you have kids, you can see the consumerism machine already picking on them, sussing out their weaknesses and insecurities. Even PBS shows have a quick McDonald's 'sponsorship spot'. Disney and Mattel already have the little ones in their databases, and are projecting future profits accordingly.

Of course, old people are still part of the money mill; they're good for a few nickels more. They've been trained since youth to take the bait. AARP, 401K's, Viagra, osteoporosis, and of course the inevitable: Depends.

We've come full circle.