Supremacist and Entitlement: To Be or Not To Be

STORIES FOR THE TIMES;

Please do not put me in that unfortunate category which has been much used lately: an entitled, older, wealthy, educated, white male supremacist. Do not assume that I am a bad person or that I am arrogant about who I am! I do not consider myself "better" than women or those who are less fortunate than me.

Lately, we have been hearing a lot about "supremacists" and "entitlement," whether "white" vs "black," or "male" vs "female," or "developed country" vs "undeveloped country." 

What exactly is a supremacist and who actually is entitled? Often the terms are used interchangeably. 

A Supremacist is ... an advocate of the supremacy of a particular group, especially one determined by race or sex.

Entitlement ... If someone has a sense of entitlement, that means the person believes he deserves certain privileges, and he is arrogant about it. 

Besides the incorrect inter-changeable use, neither are fair labels for all male members of our society. 

The definitions make sense and I can agree in some ways, however, I think that there is some misunderstanding as to what they really mean and to whom they are applied.

I did some research on Google to see what was being said about the concept of Entitlement, which appeared in the 1980s when Ronald Reagan was apparently the first president to use the term extensively. He may have “tired of getting beaten up every time he mentioned Social Security and wanted a broader and more neutral term,” political scientist Norman Ornstein has suggested.

The following came from the Washington Post, Robert J. Samuelson:

"Let’s get rid of (the term) entitlements."

"Let’s drop the whole notion of “entitlement.” Just eliminate it. Politicians, pundits, and academics who talk about entitlements would then have to name the actual programs and argue their merits and demerits. This would encourage clarity and candor. Of course, that’s why it won’t happen. 

"Generally, Americans don’t want clarity and candor in their fiscal debates. We blame our leaders for budget brawls — this latest was a doozy — but forget that our leaders are largely governed by public opinion, which is awash in contradictions."

"So the government is “open” and the immediate threat of default has lifted. Great. But the political stalemate remains. Americans oppose excessive government spending and persistent deficits. Yet they also support the individual benefit programs (a.k.a. “entitlements”), led for example by Social Security, that drive spending and deficits."

The most important examples of entitlement programs at the federal level in the United States would include Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid, most Veterans' Administration programs, federal employee and military retirement plans, unemployment compensation, food stamps, college loans, farm subsidies, and agricultural price support programs.

Mixed in with this list are programs that are paid for by the public as part of their salaries; for example, Social Security, Medicare, retirement plans, repaid college loans, etc. So I am not sure that I would call them entitlements. The difference comes when the government seeks to alter or change benefits that we cry, "I am entitled." Maybe we are maybe we are not.

In my case, I have feelings about many situations in which I might be called "entitled." Does that make me NOT eligible to state my feelings?

I am a man. I am white. I am educated. I am old. I am financially comfortable. This does not make me a Supremacist! I like who I am and what I have accomplished with my life but I do not consider myself better than others.

Just because I am a man, that does not mean I am misogynistic or sex crazy. I respect women at least as much as I respect fellow males.

Not my fault that I am white, but I can still empathize and work towards a better life for someone who is Black or Latino!

I am old, but that is also not my fault and does not mean that I cannot identify with the youth of today and speak to their well being as well as their being somewhat spoiled. I can learn from them and believe that they can learn from me.


I worked hard all my life, paid my taxes and social security fees, paid my dues to the Teacher's Retirement System. I managed my money carefully. 

Does that make me unable to feel for those who struggle to feed their children or afford to purchase drugs for their illnesses? Am I not entitled to the various benefits for which I paid over my entire working life?

I had the opportunity to go to college and worked at getting an education which enabled me to function well in the job market as a teacher for over 30 years and to have "ideas" about how things should be. So I speak up.

I am also generous with helping others in ways that bring them up and do not engage in gossip that bring them down.

Do not put me in that unfortunate category that has been invented: an older, wealthy, educated, white male supremacist and then assume I am a bad person! This seems to be what often happens and I do resent it. Thus I have spoken up!

Mine And Well Deserved

These are my hips and they can ache if they want to. These are my rotator cuffs and they can hurt when they want to. This is my lower back and if it needs to go out of alignment, I give it my permission. This is my headache and I am entitled to it although I might share it with a few aspirin.

My body has served we well for seventy-two years. Short of major surgery, which luckily exists if necessary, there is no neighborhood service shop that can oil my joints, retread my feet, tune up my muscle composition, rotate my blood vessels, alter my body mass, or refill my visual ability.

I have earned my pain over the years, variously through accident, injury, neglect, wear and tear, or just plain old age. And I am grateful to my body for the life force that it continues to deliver to me each and every day, especially since I wake up each morning, whether I want to or not. (And I still do!)

I do not complain  and do not talk about my aches and pains as part of the communication involved with friends or family or feel the need to do so, but for some reason as I was in bed at 12:34 noon today to take a well-deserved nap, I notice my hips were aching and I thanked them, welcomed the "zetz" (as they say in Yiddish) they were giving me, and rolled over to doze off.

I could talk about the same with my looks, the increased girth, the extra folds, the hair in unexpected places, the lack of energy, the increased difficulty in climbing stairs, pushing a table into place but hurting my wrist before the table even begins to move, the decrease in libido but none the less the continued desire and need for fantasy. 

I am grateful for and to them all! Signs of being alive: enjoying the changes in the seasons, the holidays that come and go, the excellent meals prepared by friends or enjoyed at the newest neighborhood place, a good deep afternoon nap, a one beer limit; I love them all!

Many in the Gay Community are still youth-oriented, at my stage of life I still enjoy looking at and thinking about what it would be to lay with a youth but if I am really honest with myself, who would want me, would I remember what to do if I had the opportunity, and would I be able to perform? Probably not, but who cares because most likely I will get to see tomorrow's sunrise and that is enough!

A Work in Progress

It took until I was 35 to figure out who I was and who I wanted to be. I am still working on that twice as many years later as I live my 70th year.

Don't Tell Me Not To!

This post was suggested by a conversation I had with my niece, on Gregory's side, who I dearly love and who I know has my best interests at heart.

I mentioned that I needed to get out the ladder so I could climb up and re-aim the HVAC vents for the air conditioning during summer.

She replied, "You shouldn't be climbing ladders when you are 70 years old!"

I joked and said, "If I fall, I can always crawl over to one of the I have fallen and can't get up buttons.

She and my nephew said that if the blogs stopped coming, they would know I needed help and would call the paramedics.

I got to thinking about the conversation. I wasn't upset or insulted then and am still not upset or insulted now, but I did want to share some feelings on the implications of not being allowed to climb ladders anymore because I am 70 years old.

First of all, it is not like I am climbing outside to the top of the house to clean the leaves out of the gutters like I used to. At a certain point I stopped doing that and wouldn't allow Gregory to do it either, hiring a company to do it for us.

Hopefully I am aware enough of myself, and intelligent enough to monitor and curtail my behaviors that no longer are possible or are dangerous for an older person. If I was not aware, I guess it would be good to have someone out there watching out for my well being.

But being told I cannot do something, when I know that I still can, and that I am more careful doing it because I am older ... is upsetting.

The bottom line, and it is probably harsh, is that I would rather fall off the ladder and injure myself or die than to stop doing the things that I enjoy and that are important to me. What good is treating myself like a fragile, frail old man when if effect I am not!

I really think that I have given up some stuff already because either it is too difficult or I just cannot do that anymore. For example I hired a firm to clean the carpets, I hired a painter when I decided to redecorate, I ask someone to help when moving something is too heavy.

But arbitrarily to not climb a ladder to re-aim the HVAC vents because I am 70? No, I would rather die!

Another Milestone

As I mentioned in a previous post, being a Gay Man of 70 years, I have not been able to measure my life in milestones as do non-gay men who grew up when I did. In the traditional situation, a man measures his life by his accomplishments and successes but also by family events.

Nowadays a gay couple or individual can adopt and have a somewhat traditional family of his/her own. In the post I discussed what it felt like being a "father figure" and/or mentor to a series of young men who entered Gregory and my life and how this served as a series of milestones for me.

Isaac became part of our experience when he was born to dear friends Jan and Jake and now to me during his recent living in the condo until he leaves for his adventure in Japan.

Ben, Ken, and Alaksh arrived as companions to Gregory when I needed support in providing Gregory as close to a normal existence as possible considering his diagnosis of Young Onset Alzheimer's Disease and also giving myself "away time" from the 24/7 responsibility that is loving and living with someone who has dementia.

One other important young man, who I though about last night as I anticipate his Christmas vacation visit, was also a milestone event for me but I did not discuss him previously. I will use his initials, CP, so as not to embarrass him in this honest essay and if my failing to include him previously caused upset, I apologize and hope to make up for it here.

I first met CP when he was just a child, nephew of dear friends. He did not distinguish himself in my mind over the years of his being part of this multiple nephew/niece group of dear friends whom we only saw each July 4th.

As he grew up, became a man, and began attending university, we reacquainted on a more intellectual, adult/adult level.

I have to admit I was attracted to him: young, handsome, intelligent, kind, friendly. Why wouldn't I be. I was attracted to his respect for me and honoring me as someone to whom he looked up. I was flattered and why wouldn't I be.

While I admit to this "crush," he was never in danger of my acting on the "crush" as I honor the friendship above all else and even more strongly would never betray or seek to realize an inappropriate man/youth attraction/fantasy with anyone so far out of my age range and certainly not without mutual consent.

So CP and I began what was to become months of e-mail communications based on the book, "Letters to a Young Poet" by Rainer-Maria Rilke. Our mutual love of writing was the glue that supported our new relationship. Recommended readings and shared writings were sent back and forth.

We talked about poetry, writing, life, death, and everything in-between. He shared his youthful ideas: sometimes foolish, sometimes insightful. I shared my "wiser" ideas: sometimes foolish, sometimes insightful. Over time we came to know and respect each other and our foolish if not sometimes insightful ideas.

Most often we agreed with each other and most often we learned from each other. Most importantly we peaked each other's interest, motived each other to higher thinking, and motivated our continued sharing.

Since then, conversations have disappeared, understandably so as he became more immeshed in his university studies and as I became more entrenched in my life partner Gregory's diminished abilities due to his diagnosis of Young Onset Alzheimer's Disease.

So thank you CP for being one of my milestones in "growing into old age gracefully" and into having been yet again a mentor to another amazing young man. I look forward to our upcoming visit during your Christmas break. Like the nurturing person I am (and to use an older gay joking phrase - an Old Auntie,) I will probably bake some cookies for your visit.

Interesting

This evening, on my way back to the condo from the gym (two floors below in my building,) I was feeling healthy and vital. It felt good to be a little sore from my workout with my personal trainer. I was thinking about weighing myself this morning and confirming that I am continuing to loose weight.

These feelings came by way of an overall mind vision of my body in relation to who I am and the choices I have made to keep in shape as I approach my 70th year of life. It came as a total picture, maybe a second or two in duration, and now I am trying to translate it into words.

I felt ... well I felt ... like I was in my early 20's. What is interesting about this is that for most of adult life I have felt like a 9 year old. I attribute my success as an elementary school teacher of grades 4-6 to being able to identify with my fellow 9 year olds! I continued to (and still do) love toys, circuses, and "playing" in general. I continued to be amazed at life and the magic it holds.

When I would go through a "down" time, I would look back at my "ways" as immature and naive and promise myself that while I would not loose my "little boy," I would try to become better at being an adult.

When Gregory was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease in 2003, life got very difficult for both of us, especially me being the one now "in charge" of both of our lives. At one point I realized that I felt like I had grown up a little and now felt like a teenager, no longer a nine year old.

I hadn't thought much more about this "growing up" phenomenon until today and here I am having arrived at feeling like I am in my early 20's. Interesting again, as I am still 50 or so years behind my chronological age! I sincerely hope I never catch up!