The (how many?) ages of man /1

There is a fantastically great number of paintings in existence entitled the "ages of man," or some variation of that theme. This is a nice one, I think, by Valentin de Boulogne. He portrays four stages: The child, the young man, the middle-aged man and the old man. The painting was completed in 1627, give or take a year in either direction. Whether one believes in three ages or four ages or, as William Shakespeare wrote, seven ages, undoubtedly we change physically and mentally and intellectually and emotionally as our lives progress. (Yes, in many, many ways.) De Boulogne, incidentally, was French, and studied the works of Italian masters . (Who does not?) He was particularly influenced by one of my favorites, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio. You may have noticed some of Caravaggio's work on my pages in previous posts if you have come here before. In the meanwhile, look at the faces of de Boulogne's man as he travels through the stages of his life, and try to imagine what is going on inside of him, how he is evolving ever more -- or, possibly, diminishing? Another reason I like this painting is because the man in no way resembles me. I have a northern European look about me; you see it, do you not? When you look at my photograph?

"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

An excerpt from:
All Along the Watchtower
by Bob Dylan

So, you think you have been around, do you?
(Part 1 of 2)

So much of who we are and what we are depends upon our age, which translates more into our experience than our education.

To begin, women mystify me, confuse me, leave me terrified.

Consequently, I will talk only about men as I see them.

In our teenage years, we are uncontrollable sex addicts, learning, discovering, rebelling, feeling every emotion imaginable to our species. Most of us survive it.

When we are in our twenties, we wish to save the world, we are idealists, we hope to accomplish great things and to be remembered as men who cared. Of course, these goals frequently are interrupted by legs, breasts and a wonderful smile. For most of us, we have an eye on members of the opposite sex as much as or more than we do on idealism.

When we are in our thirties, we either are among those trying to relive our twenties and find a teenage girlfriend, or we are among those ready to cut figuratively (and, sometimes, literally) throats to advance our careers, our wealth, our power.

When we are in our forties, we either are among those trying to relive our twenties and find a girlfriend barely out of her teen years, or we are among those who are beginning to realize, in the words of Bob Dylan, that life is but a joke.

Shall I stop with the forties? Oh, what the hell.

When we are in our fifties, we either are among those trying to relive our twenties and find a girlfriend who, at least, looks like she is no older than twenty-five, or we are listening to wives who are prescribing our vitamin pills, our exercise routines, our health diets and .... well, you get the drift.

Obviously, not all men (including me, I am pleased to admit) fall into these categories completely as they journey through life, but this is pretty much how I view things as they exist in America today. And, as I have written before, the man who might reach the age of seventy or eighty and who boldly announces that he has "had a good life and has no regrets and would not change a thing" is a liar or is delusional or is or an absolute idiot.

All I have to do is to walk around the block and see these old creatures (i.e., men) in their yards pulling dandelions, and I ask myself if this is what god (if he exists) designed man to end his life doing? All I have to do is to turn on television and to watch young creatures (i.e., men) burning, looting and begging for their governments to care for them from cradle to grave, and I ask myself if this is what god (if he exists) created mankind to use his intellectual resources to accomplish?

This is why I frequently smile to myself and say, life is but a joke. Dylan had it right. This is why I frequently glare at anyone who comes too near to me uninvited and say to them, (paraphrasing a literary master): "Abandon hope, all ye who approach me (who enter) here."