respect

AS I'VE WRITTEN BEFORE, I had the lie of Age=Authority shown to me early in life. Whether it was the peer beat-downs that sometimes found me due to my being a tiny kid; the police occasionally appearing as adversaries to my family or their friends; the rebellious music I grew up hearing; the fact that my caretakers were at times drastically incompetent or hostile or both; or certain teachers displaying inappropriate stupidity, immaturity, or outright aggression—I labored under no belief that big people were infallible or expert.

I moved around. A lot. In some places, I found that this skepticism was not necessarily the norm in my peer groups. Some friends (most, in some areas) seemed to have kneejerk reactions to authority, be it teacher, priest, police, or parent. That reaction was to publicly obey, even to fear, to reflexively genuflect. Regardless of what the friend said, felt, or did in private. I did not, at least, suffer that contradiction. Perhaps that is unfortunate...and yet in the world I've known, it was best. Either way, it eventually labeled me as insubordinate, rebellious, and trouble. But what is a child to do in the face of fake and often-harmful authority—but rage?

The realization hit me over and over, though. I think we have a sense built in, a sense that expects the aged to know more. It would stand to reason. Biologically sound. Perpetuates necessary bonds and perhaps life-saving obeisance to caretakers.

Our first systems of hierarchy are probably age. Kids boast of a quarter-year seniority on each other, and it means all the world, and none of them argue the standard of measurement. It makes sense. Because even one day in a life can add an unmeasurable amount of wisdom. Should we choose to take it.

That's the thing. That's what rose up and hit me again. Even with all I had learned about authority figures, I was stunned later to realize how many adults remained as children. And I don't mean childlike. I mean childish.