Showdown in Deadwood

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“ A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” is a phrase consigned sadly to history.

It probably originated in those penny-dreadful novels of 19^th Century America set in Deadwood featuring a man with the tautological two guns, and a dame in distress.

But there is little call these days for machismo and even, it seems, male courtesy. To open a door for a woman, if not frowned upon (though it can be), is often treated with suspicion and is certainly rarely understood. Even less understood is the Victorian courtesy of walking on the road side of a footpath when accompanying a woman. For that matter who “accompanies” a woman these days?

But I am of an age, and of an Age, that says bugger it.  I will continue to display common courtesies to women even if that leaves me open to derision by men and women both. I will continue to do it because:
A: I know how to do it, and,

B: It is still important to some women.

But there is one other reason, and that is one of reasoning and realisation. One realises as one grows older is that there are far more people younger than you than older. You are confronted by them hourly and they are just as perplexing to you as  you were to your parents and elders way back then.

But here is the thing. For those young people, those who care, we are equally mysterious. They do not know what drives us, they do not know what aspirations and hopes we could possibly have. If they are particularly cruel, they probably think we could not possibly have any hopes and aspirations, not at our age.

Realising that, my reasoning is to capitalise on that air of mystery—not to fight it.  If I am to be looked upon as an aging relic of an earlier age, then I shall also be looked upon as someone to whom a young person can go to for sage advice. 

I find myself in that role increasingly of late and I have been rewarded. I have a young goddaughter (with and IQ of 120) whom, I am told, adores me; I have the young lady with communications aspirations who I wrote about a few Frydays back and I have a new friend whom I am mentoring on writing—something, incidentally, I did for my goddaughter’s mother many years ago.

The rewards are that I have been treated with respect and I have been given insight to the coming generation—and what I have seen of that generation is deeply encouraging.

To those young ladies, I will open car-doors any day, every day, not because I have to, but because I want to—and they deserve it.