Why Aunt Marge Can't Be Just Marge

Aunt Marge has lost a step or two, but that's fine. Everyone loves her, and we're just so glad she's still here with us!

But here's what you don't know.

Assuming Aunt Marge isn't demented or wholly incompetent...

And she just gets a little feisty when things don't quite go her way...

And drops sullenly out of conversations...

And is stuck in her ways due to a comfort zone the size of a cherry pit...

And speaks her salty mind a bit, heh, forthrightly...

...the unrecognized truth is that none of this is inevitable.

Aunt Marge isn't helplessly dragged into this behavior by advancing age. You might not want to hear this, but she's doing it because she can get away with it. We celebrate Aunt Marge for simply being Aunt Marge, and she spends extravagantly from that immense credit. Older people grow lazy because we let them get away with it, respecting them—or, at least, the proposition of them—regardless.

You'd do the same if those around you celebrated the mere idea of you without expecting you to prove yourself. If you could get away without earning the attention you expect from others, you'd stop making the effort, too. Not trying feels like a vacation!

But then, what the hell am I supposed to do?

Just as young people wind up at the kid's table, people my age find themselves bundled with the Olds. And it has puzzled me profoundly that they have so little to offer. I don't ask much—and I'm not relentlessly judging—but very few people over age 60 seem the least bit interesting, smart, funny, kind, generous, or even just pleasant to be around. I have better conversations with my rhododendron! And I'm not talking about decrepits. I mean people as strong as bulls who talk a blue streak—but have nothing to offer. Nada. Zip. It's so strange.

It's notoriously hard for old people to make new friends. We chalk it up to age discrimination or general "marginalization". But, no, that's not it. It's because Aunt Marge is so used to coasting on being Aunt Marge that she has no idea how to be just Marge. And there's no self-awareness, just confusion, leaving her feeling oddly entitled to engagement, friendship, and eager ears for her low-effort blandness.

Nothing is offered and everything is expected when you imagine you're seen as That Person, obliviously coasting on canned personhood. But the magic doesn't work with newcomers, and it's been a long time since you earned your way. Or made the slightest effort to be interesting or pleasant. Or, really, anything.

So I keep finding myself saddled with Just-Plain-Marges who expect to seem compelling because they're That Irrepressible Person. But, outside one's musty, established circles, effort is necessary. Rise from complacency, constrain stridency, and try to follow conversational context (i.e. don't just blurt out the stuff you usually say)!

Uh-uh. I've rarely met a senior the least bit interested in pulling off that baseline trifecta of everyday solicitude. And, dear God, I hope I'm not obliviously falling into the same trap.


Why do seniors repeat the same stories endlessly? It's not memory loss. It's that they feel entitled to inflict this on you if they bloody well feel like it. It's so much nastier and more callous and self-indulgent than you'd ever imagined. The truth is an absolute horror.

All posts tagged "Aging", in reverse-chronological order.