That expression has lived with me since the onset of tinnitus. Or was it my hip replacement? The “new normal” always referred to physical changes, usually those that bring about a diminished capacity, a slowing or a weakening. Yesterday I experienced yet another new normal, revealing but wholly unexpected. Walking on a treadmill at 24 Hour Fitness I became acutely aware that the man to my right, a thirty-year old Asian, was carrying on a Facetime conversation with a friend. His voice was so loud that even with my noise canceling earbuds on, I had difficulty listening to a podcast.
When I finished I told him that “no one wants to hear your conversation, that you should move to a more isolated treadmill.” He dismissed me with a few sharp words, including “Shut up, old man.” He used the expression again, dismissively referring to me as an old man. I left. “Asshole,” I said, walking away.
Unnerved, I angrily swam the fastest mile of the year, trying not to think about that exchange.
What I discovered is that for the first time in my life a seventy-seven year old white male joined the ranks of blacks, women, gays, the disabled, Asians, Jews, Muslims, the infirm, and all those who are discriminated against for how they look, how they appear. It’s not the content of my character nor the color of my skin, it’s the wrinkles in it.
In 1970 my Chinese bride and I went to a Reds game. On the way home I asked her why she was crying. A fan had pointed to her during the game and exclaimed, “I killed me a bunch of them in ‘Nam.” I hadn’t heard it. When she was a little girl some neighbors’ children weren’t allowed to play with her. I’ve known these stories for more than fifty years, but I’m a white man, a lapsed Protestant, and as such until Monday was never dismissed, never suffered slings and arrows. People call me “Sir.” Until Monday.