I read in a recent New York Press Association publication an article suggesting that journalists be more broad-minded when writing about the elderly. Six “tips” were proffered. Here are mine:
1. Terminology matters.
Be careful with the word “old” in writing about old people. Simply use “fogey,” “bat,” “coot,” or “goat” when referring to them. Remember, old geezer and old dotard are redundant. The crone in a chair endlessly rocking, or drooling in a wheelchair at a nursing home, or the wizened man sitting alone, hunched over a cane on a park bench perpetuate negative stereotypes about older people as being less capable, lonely, sick, and in decline. Seek out, instead, more colorful Golden Agers, those who flick spitballs at the dining room table, show you their scars, and tell you where to get off if you say, “How are we doing today?”
2. Broaden the narrative.
If your 85-year-old subject recently broke the sound barrier free-falling from upper space, you might have to consider padding your interview to include the growing number of stigmatized astigmatic drivers who flip you the bird when told their licenses ought to be revoked, and the ever-increasing number of hearing-impaired seniors who simply flip you the bird no matter what you say.
3. But don’t you be flip.
As you know, some seniors may not have all their chairs at home, as it were, but they can still be pretty funny, misremembering what you never knew. So forget the patronizing tone, forget about the facts because it’s also a fact that people in this country don’t know diddly when it comes to history anyway, so why should wrinkled feet be held to the fire? Let them extemporize, let them go on, let them tell you that their minds are circuses, that they run in their dreams, that their forebears visit with them in the night, that the past had it all over the present, and that the present, as bad as it is, may have it all over the future should brawn win out over brains.
4. And, finally, think demographics.
Remember, seniors, habituated to print, make up a good chunk of your newspaper’s readership, paying customers eager each week to learn who among their neighbors died and who got arrested. Consider too that a good number of them simply may make better company, may be more fun to interview than young people ridden with angst.
Yes, their flesh is sagging, yes, they smell funny, yes, their pates are shiny, their teeth green, and their voices raspy, but many of the aging, despite the weight of years, are, contrary to the aforementioned stereotypes, somewhat lighthearted within. They’re good copy, in other words. They’ll probably tell you that you gotta laugh, for, given the absurdities abounding in life, you’ve got no choice.