Help the Aged (Men)
I have a question. When did I become old?
After a particularly vicious attack of the munchies the other evening, I left my house in search of sustenance (probably in the form of sugary goodness), only to be confronted with a gang of youths. I say gang, there were three of them. I say youths, they were probably all under 11. I say confronted, they were playing on the kerb outside their house.
They appeared to be engaged in some form of obscure dance, the main objective of which seemed to be falling down and laughing hysterically. As I passed, however, they all froze and appeared sheepish. That is, until one of them shouted “Why are we stopping? It’s just a man!”
A man. A man.
I’m 20 years young, I still play video games and have an unhealthy obsession with elves and dragons, I decorate my room with posters of my favourite heroes (Master Chief mainly). Hell, for the last few weeks I’ve even re-engaged in painting and battling tiny plastic space men, something I haven’t done since I was 14. I consider myself, at best to be a young man. A title that implies I’m a novice in the world of grown-ups, and that there is an acceptable allowance for mistakes and screw-ups. More importantly it means I get to do the things I enjoy doing, without it seeming somewhat tragic.
Now, you may not think there is a large gap between young man and man, but believe me, it is there. To take on the title of man is to accept the mantle of adulthood, something which I am loathe to do.
The term “man” is something of an enigma in this age, an undefined label for maturity. What it means to be a man in the 21st century may be completely different to, say, the 1950’s, but the title still conjures images of strength, nobility, responsibility and maturity. This is why, when asked, most men refer (uneasily) to themselves and other men as “blokes”.
“Man” is different to his brother “Bloke” in that a man is the image all males carry in their minds of what they will, someday, have to become. Bloke is a laugher, he’s reckless in his freedom, loyal to his mates, he doesn’t think about tomorrow. Man is a protector, a father and husband; he walks with the weight that others will one day (if not already), prosper from his decisions. Man has a family, where Bloke has his friends. Man is responsible and wise, for it is his purpose to guide his children, through action and word. Bloke does exactly as he pleases, with only himself to pay for his mistakes. In simplest terms, Man lives for others, because he must, while Bloke lives only for himself, because he can.
Bloke both fears and admires Man. Man is the unattainable goal we as males strive for, he sums up all that we are designed to be. And how to take on the mantle? Personally, I believe it begins when a bloke looks ahead and realises that his way of life can no longer continue, that he will be called upon, someday, to place the welfare of a family in front of his own. If a bloke can realise this, and accept it without fear, then he is already a Man, even if he doesn’t know it yet.
I myself am no-where near ready to enter that role, and I hope this is simply due to my youth. I am happy being a young man, with all the simplistic joys it brings. One day I will trade childish things for happiness of a different kind, but that day is far off.
That is why, as I walked up the road with a bag full of Haribo, when I was greeted with “It’s just the man again, hello man!” I turned and replied with a grin; ”I’m not a man, I’m a wizard!”
