Scattered Hayseeds

I think we need to change the name “senior cititzen” to “elder.” I like the singular sound of “elder” better than the duality of “senior citizen.” Elder sounds wise to me. Senior citizen sounds Orwellian at best and old at worst. Elders, to me, can be sophisticated, plain or profound.

The native peoples of the world use the term "elder" as a plateau of respect, honor and acquired wisdom and as a sacred reminder of the ancestral past. Modern society, flooded with its passions for youth and anything new sees seniors as a nuisance, something to tolerate and move aside. It is a shame of modern American society.

We often hide our elder’s brilliance and accumulated knowledge in homes and designated residences with the belief they are finished with thought and have nothing more to contribute. We smother their life stories and valued memories into boxed rooms and medicated minds.

We need to free them with venues of public expression and participation.

Elders are the strata of humanity. They are the human schist of wisdom precipitated into the sediments of experience. Elders have the acquired pallor of experience and the wrinkled rows of worry and the knowing that youth must learn it their own way.

I reprise these thoughts for I just received a wonderful book by Mary Rose Zalvis. It is entitled, “Scattered Hayseeds.” It is a collection of her observations of life experiences from her birth in 1916 to her wonderful age of 97. It’s published by IMAGO Press and I recommend it. “Scattered Hayseeds” by Mary Rose Zalvis is a treasure to be enjoyed and embraced by readers of all ages.