Turning

Fair Warning. After my somewhat optimistic post two weeks ago, this one will likely be pretty dark.

Having passed the halfway point through my eighties, I have been doing a little reflecting on the seasons of life., That’s pretty simple. For the first 20-25 years, we are growing in physical stature and strength; we soak up education as we are willing to do; we become aware of our reproductive nature by hormonal awakening; for the next 20-25 years, most of us find jobs and start families. Some seek more education. We start careers and sometimes change course as we enhance our skills and gain experience. The next 20-25 years are expected to be our most productive as our abilities have reached their maximum potential. Our families have matured, and the youngsters are well into that first season or beyond. The last season may be one of reflection, rest, and peacefulness, as well as physical and mental decline. It can be one of joy, new adventure, satisfaction in lives well-lived and pride in our progeny. For some, it is pretty painful when the dreams of the earlier seasons have not been realized or intervening catastrophe has placed insurmountable walls in our path. For most, it has components of both the good and the not-so-good.

A few weeks ago, I started to read Winston Groom’s “The Patriots,” a wonderful biographical work that details the lives and relationships of Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, and John Adams. Groom vividly paints the picture of the growth of the polarization of their views: The strong central government advocated by the Federalists led by Adams and Hamilton, and the States Righters led by Jefferson. The polarization of that time seems to me to have been not so different than that which we see today- it was marked by vicious name-calling, outright exaggeration, slander, and even came to actual hatred between Jefferson and Adams. Fortunately, these two, in the last decades of their lives, were able to put that all aside and enter into a civil and admiring discourse with each other, until they both passed away on July 4. 1826, fifty years to the day from the birthday of our republic.

I was halfway through “The Patriots"‘ when I was given a copy of “The Fourth Turning is Here,” by historian Neil Howe. I started to read both books simultaneously and found myself varying between a blue funk and the eureka of discovery. Howe analyzes the seasons of history of the political/geographical national gatherings of mankind and applies that analysis to America today. He posits that, somewhat like my own thoughts about the seasons of life of an individual, the collective generations, called “saeculum”, are cyclically divided into four 18 to 25-year “turnings.” I would be way out of my depth to attempt to explain what happens in each turning, so you will have to read the book if you want to know about them. I have not yet finished the book, so I do not know in detail how the Howe thinks we got to the fourth turning in this saeculum. That turning, Howe says, is one of “secular upheaval” characterized by crisis events like major wars, massive economic collapse, or several other possible scenarios. Then, arising from the ashes of the fourth turning, like a beautiful butterfly escaping from her cocoon, we see the first turning of a new saeculum which brings a new civic order. So, the cycle begins again. It is simple, right? But it is also so complex, and trying to weave the events of history, like the Adams/Hamilton/ Jefferson polarization, into the appropriate turning is beyond my ken. I am anxious to see if Howe can do that. It would be so much easier to have a linear view of history without worrying about all these cycles.

For the record, the comments in the first paragraph about the seasons of life are mine alone. I suppose there have been whole books written about them which may have similar conclusions, but I have not read any of them, aside from a few verses about time from the third chapter of Ecclesiastes.

I will close with a few lyrics from that so very sad song from Les Miserables:

‘“Childen of the barricade who didn't last the night. Did you see them lying where they died? Someone used to cradle them and kiss them when they cried…..Where’s that new world now the fightings done?…. Turning, turning, turning through the years, minutes into hours.and the hours into years. Nothing changes. Nothing ever can.”

Until next time, Keep your powder dry!