Sept 17 -- the arc of autumn is bending over the woods, and it reminds me that there are ecological reasons why we no longer care about the elderly. In traditional societies close to the cycle of the seasons, the number of times you have been through the cycle year after year is useful, crucial information -- you can tell when the animals are returning, you can gauge whether the delay in the onset of a new seasion is important, or just part of the natural variation in things ("Oh, we had a winter like that 20 years ago). You can train the young in what will be. And so the elderly in these cultures are guardians of more than just family wisdom, they are central custodians of social knowledge.
Our society puts no value on this kind of wisdom, because everything is geared to the new, to innovation, to what has never been seen before, the gimmick, the breakthrough. And that is the province of the young, for whom the recurrence of variations of the same is not the source of their strength. Tomorrow will be nothing like today, and certainly nothing like last year. So what use are you? Only in the wisdom of the home, in the still breathing cyclical rituals of family, do those lucky enough to have grandchildren, or the love of their own children, still flourish as keepers of recurring truth -- "don't worry, honey, your mother and I had the same problem when you were a baby". But beyond that? We have little use for the elderly, and while they have our residual respect, they embarrass us.

Meanwhile, there is a hint of frost in the air this morning. And it is the most beautiful day I have seen this year, reminding me that in the end nothing is older and wiser than the dawn, or so new. (p.t.)