An apprehensive glimpse into Roger’s Rules for Aging
by Jim Freund
© 2022
Listen to this paragraph that recently caught my attention. It appeared under the heading:
Nobody is thinking about you
Yes, I know, you are certain that your friends are becoming your enemies; that your grocer, garbage man, clergyman, sister-in-law, and your dog are all of the opinion that you have put on weight, that you have lost your touch, that you have lost your mind; furthermore, you are convinced that everyone spends two-thirds of every day commenting on your disintegration, denigrating your work, plotting your assassination. I promise you: Nobody is thinking about you. They are thinking about themselves – just like you.
Hyperbole, sure – but, oh boy, does this ring true! It’s just that I hadn’t previously heard it expressed in such compelling terms. So I read on, absorbed in my Kindle copy of Roger Rosenblatt’s slender book, Rules For Aging: A Wry and Witty Guide to Life.
It contains 58 of Rosenblatt’s idiosyncratic rules, expressed in no particular order and not otherwise organized. Some of them are, frankly, a bit odd, and others I don’t subscribe to. Still, a fair number struck me as wry and witty, and worthwhile to ponder. I’m passing these along to you, along with a few comments of my own.
For instance, here’s an offshoot of “Nobody is thinking about you” that Rosenblatt calls:
It’s not about you.
This one focuses on the habit many folks have fallen into of believing that all questions are about themselves.
Rosenblatt’s prime examples here come from eulogies delivered upon someone’s passing. Just listen to an author (John) eulogizing from the pulpit about a prominent deceased book editor: “He once said to me, his eyes moist with tears, ‘John, you are the best writer since Hemingway’.” Or a female counterpart: “[The deceased] said, trembling from head to foot with joy, ‘you are the best writer since Virginia Woolf’.” Or the man who talked for a half hour, about how much the dearly departed had relied on the speaker’s judgment.
Here’s Roger’s rule: “Though you are certain that you are the center of the universe, you might acknowledge, in one or two instances, that you ought to travel to another planet.”
As one who has lately been eulogizing lost friends, I must admit that Rosenblatt’s prime examples caused me a few moment of consternation. I usually favor personal recollections over generalized plaudits, thus putting myself “in the picture,” so to speak. I hope I come across as just an observant companion, not the central character. Still, I’ll be alert to avoid blowing my own horn in future commemorations.
I’ve assembled a quartet of Roger’s rules about the vice of taking yourself too seriously.
Just because the person who criticizes you is an idiot doesn’t make him wrong.
It could be, Rosenblatt notes, just a lucky shot that happened to hit the mark – allowing you to “make corrective use of the assault, yet denigrate the source.”
If something is boring you, it is probably you.
Rosenblatt was inspired here by the garrolous poet Dylan Thomas who, on a walking tour of the Scottish Isles, had been talking for two days straight. “Finally he stopped, looked around, and said, “Somebody’s boring me. I think it’s me!”
Yes, you did.
Roger’s rule here is this: “If you have the slightest question as to whether or not you are responsible for a wrongdoing, you are. As soon as you think , ‘I really didn’t do it’ – you did. Come to this conclusion early, act to correct it, and live a lot longer.”
Boo yourself off the stage.
Rosenblatt’s advice: “Unlikely as it sounds, there may be one or two occasions in your life when you do something not up to your usual high standard. When that occurs, lead the booing yourself. It is good for one’s health, and it will deprive others of the satisfaction of your embarrassment.”
Let’s face it, many difficult situations are not easy to own up to. I’m certain I’ve resisted following Roger’s advice at various moments in the past. For instance, when I was practicing law, the acceptance of responsibility for a wrongdoing was not simple to swallow, and booing myself off the stage regarding something serious would probably have taken more guts than I could have mustered. Now that I’m no longer in the legal mainstream and the errors are generally less significant, it makes sense to follow Roger’s advice and I’m going to give it a try – at least, in the (inconceivable) case that I find myself criticized or feel bored or make a mistake or perform below my usual standards . . . .
Here’s a duo of Roger’s suggestions to keep in mind in dealing with others.
Never bring news of slander to a friend.
You probably know that one already, since it was preceded by Mark Twain’s memorable comment:
“It takes your enemy and your friend, working together, to hurt you to the heart; the one to slander you and other to get the news to you.”
The second is:
Do not attempt to improve anyone, especially when you know it will help.
Rosenblatt says this so well, I’ll just quote him.
“There is a friend, a relative, an employee, an employer, a colleague, whose behavior flaws are so evident to everyone but themselves, you just know that a straightforward, no-punches-pulled conversation with them will show them the errors of their ways. They will in turn see the light at once and be forever grateful that only as good and caring a person as yourself would be so kind and so brave as to confront them.
I implore you: When the muse of improvement whispers in your ear, swat it. I refer to [the first rule above]: Nobody is thinking about you – unless you tell them about their faults. Then you may be sure that they are thinking about you. They are thinking of killing you.”
This was a problem for me back when I was lawyering and observed a significant shortcoming in an associate who worked on deals with me. There was even an excuse available for violating Roger’s rule – the client deserved excellent support. Thus, it was my place – my duty – to be the one who delivered the bad news. But now that I’ve departed the law, there’s no ready excuse, and I try to keep my improvement views to myself.
Rosenblatt makes two of his suggestions by analogies to the game of basketball – one of which he adopts and the other he rejects. The first is
The game is played away from the ball.
Although players spend most of their practice time dribbling and shooting, a wise coach was heard to remind them that in an actual game they only had their hands on the ball for several minutes. Most of a player’s game is played away from the ball, defending or getting into position to receive a pass.
In journalism, says Rosenblatt, it’s useful to look away from the ball, but most journalists don’t – they focus on a particular disruptive event and miss the continuous story, which may give a far more truthful picture. And likewise in other contexts, people tend to do the same thing – make judgments based on things that happen suddenly and explosively rather than on things that happen all the time. Roger then turns this into a rule for aging.
Do not judge others by their dramatic moments – how they may panic or become nasty or wild in a crisis – in contrast to their much different normal behavior. The people they are in repose are the people they are. The people they become in a crisis are the people they become in a crisis. If you like them better in a crisis, you might create a series of shocking events for them to respond to. But if you prefer them in the quieter moments, judge them away from the ball. Naturally, this applies to the way you would like them to look at you, too.
He uses another basketball analogy in a way I question, but it’s worth thinking about.
Do not go to your left.
Rosenblatt’s reasoning:
Going to one’s left – or working on going to one’s left – is a basketball term for strengthening one’s weakness. A right-handed player will improve his game considerably if he learns to dribble and shoot with his left hand and to move to his left on the court. What is true for basketball, however, is not true for living. In life, if you attempt to compensate for a weakness, you will usually grow weaker. If, on the other hand (the right one), you keep playing to your strength, you will not notice that you have weaknesses. Of course, you probably do not believe this. You will want to take singing lessons anyway.
As a firm believer in keeping a lot of different balls in the air, I can’t agree with Rosenblatt here. I often “go to my left” as a way to develop additional strengths to make me a more rounded person. So listen, readers – don’t mention it to Roger, but take those singing lessons!
Never think on vacation
Here’s another one I’ve never followed.
Something odd happens to the mind when it is on holiday; the mind begins to contemplate an entire future made up of revolutionary happiness. It asks itself: Why have you wasted your life up to this moment of clarity? This, this is who you were meant to be all along . . . . Soon you are listening to your mind compose one long explanatory letter to your boss.
Don’t think. Keep the mind in its safe and stupid mode, the way you like it when on vacation. Aren’t those peaches the best?
Take note of this advisory caution:
Listen for the word “Great”
Roger: It is my experience that whenever anyone says the word “Great!” in response to an idea you have, or to some work you have accomplished, or to a proposal you have made, it is time to pack your bags. I don’t know how this happened, but somewhere in the annals of insincerity, someone hit on this ingenious word, which is used to mislead others, to keep them at bay, or to relay no meaning whatever.
Pay no attention to it, or you’ll be wasting time. Act as if the person who said “Great!” has said “Interesting!” and go home.
That’s aimed at listening. How about speaking, Roger?
Never say any of the following
“That’s the best thing you’ve ever done.”
If you tell them that something represents “the best thing you’ve ever done,” they will hear: “How much better it is than all the other things you’ve done!” An absolute compliment will be interpreted as a comparative insult.”
“You look lovely today”
Remember: Everybody looks lovely every day.
“Why not?! or “Oh, what the hell,” or “What have I got to lose?” or “Do we really need a contract?”
Expect gratitude from everybody for everything.
What??!!
Roger: Just kidding, of course. Expect gratitude from nobody for anything. It’s not that you don’t deserve gratitude or that, in a just world, you would not receive it. But this is planet Earth. And here, if you expect people to demonstrate gratitude for something you have done for them, you are in for a lot of steaming and fuming and wasted hours.
Sometimes, Rosenblatt can be positive, although usually after leading off with a negative comment. For instance, this is one I like.
Fast and steady wins the race
Whatever it is that you do well later in life you probably did exceptionally well at the beginning, causing people to sit up and remark on how especially gifted and capable you were. Now that you have done your work for many years, you remember those times of initial praise with a mournful melancholy. You would like to cause that stir again. You won’t.
Steady excellence is one of the hardest things for Americans to recognize because it is the antithesis of newness, revolution, and excitement. Yet those who achieve steady excellence lead contented lives, which are in fact a lot more appreciated than they may know.
But the Roger Rosenblatt we buy the book for needs to give us a wry and witty jolt. The following paragraph is how Roger starts his book. I’ll use it to end my article – without endorsement, although recognizing its utility in lessening the pressure.
It doesn’t matter.
Whatever you think matters – doesn’t. Follow this rule, and it will add decades to your life. It does not matter if you are late, or early; if you are here, or if you are there; if you said it, or did not say it; if you were clever, or if you were stupid; if you are having a bad hair day, or a no hair day; if your boss looks at you cockeyed; if your girlfriend or boyfriend looks at you cockeyed; if you are cockeyed; if you don’t get that promotion, or prize, or house, or if you do. It doesn’t matter.
WHEW . . . !!!