One Thinks One Knows It All
“Of course, when one is eighteen one thinks one knows it all,” wrote Stephen’s ex-stepfather to him in a letter – he was forbidding Stephen to live with me, as a matter of fact. I was, Ex-Stepfather believed, a shameless hussy of twenty-one and Stephen and I weren’t even married.
Of course, it might not have worked out: Ex-Stepfather might have been right. But I don’t think you can go round forbidding adults – even young ones – to do things: they have to work things out for themselves. Otherwise one generation could just give the next a list of instructions and every generation would show a marked improvement upon the one before.
Life doesn’t work like that. It would be wrong if it did.
But do people change? I think some do, some don’t. I met a woman the other day whose daughter was at the same university interview as Emily. The daughter and her boyfriend had been together for three years, the mother really liked him “but if they get engaged, I’ll kill both of them,” said the mother. I bet she wouldn’t have thought like that when she was seventeen.
And, of course, Emily and Gareth have been together for almost three years and engaged for a year and a half of those. Things may work out for them – I can currently see no reason why they wouldn’t – or they may outgrow one another and it may all go wrong. But I think they have to be given the chance to work things out for themselves.
I don’t feel I have changed much in essence since I was eighteen. I still like the things I liked then (the sea, the countryside, small groups of close friends, unpretentious cafes, casual clothes, paintings, reading, museums, to name just a few) and I still dislike the things I disliked then (posh shops, formal clothes, formal food, anything termed “sophisticated”, parties, crowds).
But maybe I just haven’t grown up. Someone I know reasonably well said to me recently “Well, of course you can’t wear the same clothes now that you did when you were eighteen.” - - Well of course, I can’t. But only because there’s not that much cheesecloth about these days. At eighteen I wore jeans and a T-shirt, or a cheesecloth top and a long skirt. And now I wear jeans and a T-shirt, or a fairly informal top – cotton generally, I don’t like anything too synthetic - and a long skirt, which is quite often made of, er, denim.
Other people, of course, of my age, wear formal suits and pearls and high heels and hats. But I don’t and I won’t, so there. I’d feel ridiculous.
So, some people change more than others over the years. I think we should give young adults – the ones who are clearly thinking about things, at least – the benefit of the doubt. We can advise them, but they must make their own decisions, and live with the consequences, good or bad, because that’s what life is.
Of course, it might not have worked out: Ex-Stepfather might have been right. But I don’t think you can go round forbidding adults – even young ones – to do things: they have to work things out for themselves. Otherwise one generation could just give the next a list of instructions and every generation would show a marked improvement upon the one before.
Life doesn’t work like that. It would be wrong if it did.
But do people change? I think some do, some don’t. I met a woman the other day whose daughter was at the same university interview as Emily. The daughter and her boyfriend had been together for three years, the mother really liked him “but if they get engaged, I’ll kill both of them,” said the mother. I bet she wouldn’t have thought like that when she was seventeen.
And, of course, Emily and Gareth have been together for almost three years and engaged for a year and a half of those. Things may work out for them – I can currently see no reason why they wouldn’t – or they may outgrow one another and it may all go wrong. But I think they have to be given the chance to work things out for themselves.
I don’t feel I have changed much in essence since I was eighteen. I still like the things I liked then (the sea, the countryside, small groups of close friends, unpretentious cafes, casual clothes, paintings, reading, museums, to name just a few) and I still dislike the things I disliked then (posh shops, formal clothes, formal food, anything termed “sophisticated”, parties, crowds).
But maybe I just haven’t grown up. Someone I know reasonably well said to me recently “Well, of course you can’t wear the same clothes now that you did when you were eighteen.” - - Well of course, I can’t. But only because there’s not that much cheesecloth about these days. At eighteen I wore jeans and a T-shirt, or a cheesecloth top and a long skirt. And now I wear jeans and a T-shirt, or a fairly informal top – cotton generally, I don’t like anything too synthetic - and a long skirt, which is quite often made of, er, denim.
Other people, of course, of my age, wear formal suits and pearls and high heels and hats. But I don’t and I won’t, so there. I’d feel ridiculous.
So, some people change more than others over the years. I think we should give young adults – the ones who are clearly thinking about things, at least – the benefit of the doubt. We can advise them, but they must make their own decisions, and live with the consequences, good or bad, because that’s what life is.
posted by Daphne at 5:44 pm
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