Can a young person understand his future as described to him by someone older?

Two problems make the answer complicated.

The first has to do with what the elder is willing to say. The second is the difficulty of the younger imagining himself as someone who is recognizably older — say middle-aged.

These questions rest on further “unknowns.” 

To what extent should one in a parental role speak about such things to the junior? Will it scare him? Will it make him wiser? Will the information be unbelievable? Will it change him?

Or, must the youth live and learn from experience, including what now appears distant, imaginary, or foolish, rather like life on another planet?

Let’s take a few examples:

According to the late Norm McDonald: 

“The only thing an old man can tell a young man is that it goes fast, real fast, and if you’re not careful, it’s too late. Of course, the young man will never understand this truth.“*

Mortality is impossible to grasp as an unlived reality except as an abstraction. One could discuss this endlessly, but consider this:

Some unripe men go off to war with great joy and enthusiasm because they believe it (severe injury or death) will not happen to them. Their sense of invulnerability is consistent with a tendency to take risks.

This relates to other qualities in human nature. We judge people for their mistakes, often believing we would not have made them, even though we’ve never been in the same situation. Fear of the future and its unexpected costs are thereby minimized.

These tendencies, among others, display how humanity protects itself from troublesome knowledge. People believe, perhaps unconsciously, that while they are like you, they are not subject to the same flaws and consequences.

We lack even Achilles’s famous heal — so we believe for most of our lives.

Since the fullness of prospective existence cannot be envisioned, our decisions and anticipations of the time ahead are imperfect. As Daniel Gilbert and colleagues have discovered, we are poor forecasters concerning our emotional reactions to events that haven’t yet happened.

Many people who believe they have been forever shattered by loss, in fact, recover from devastation, disappointment, and heartbreak if given enough time. They also anticipate enjoying experiences and foods they eat with relish today, not thinking of coming changes in how their brain and body are constituted, which may alter their response to each one.

A trivial example: I preferred vanilla ice cream as a boy. 

At some point, never having liked strawberry ice cream, I became a lover of the latter flavor. I changed without intention. It just happened — a physical transformation driven by a modification of my nature over which I exerted no control.

This also applies to some variations in personality, interests, and adapting to the transforming world. It can be a matter outside the realm of willpower, choice, or training, instead a consequence of mutating in subtle and unsubtle ways. Yes, we grieve losses with intention, but time, too, contributes to the healing of many wounds.

What other changes might you encounter with age? At funerals of departed friends and loved ones, more than a few men bite their fingernails, something they have not done in decades.

After retirement, you will be amazed at your productivity in your working days. Sleep will be challenging, and aches and pains will follow you around. 

You might rely on stimulants, like coffee or caffeinated tea, to keep you alert. You may be more at ease with yourself. Friends increase in their importance to you, and a refrain exists among those who have set their egos aside.

“Right now in my life, I just want to be kind.”

The wisdom of age?

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The top painting is Wisdom Defending Youth Against Love by Charles Meynier. It is followed by a Professor Scolding a Student by Videoplasty. Both are sourced from Wikimedia Commons.

* Thanks also to Wynne Leon, whose Photos of the Week for January 6, 2024, included the Norm McDonald quote.