I was elated when I turned 13 and Dad had to buy an adult ticket for me when we attended a movie. I could hardly wait to grow up.
In the 1950s, the State of Illinois considered females like me adults at 18 and we could drink alcohol or marry. Ken and the other males had to wait until they were 21 to do the same things. He was allowed to join the U.S. Navy at 18.
Society has no qualms setting minimum ages but rarely sets maximums. The cops in my family had to be at least 21-years-old to pin on a badge and carry a gun. In their fifties, they each retired with a pension. Most departments have a maximum age for serving in this grueling occupation.
To lead our country, the Constitution requires a presidential candidate to be at least 35 years old. The minimum age to serve in the Senate is 30 and the House of Representatives is 25. The only maximum limit for elected officials in Washington, D.C., is the Twenty-second Amendment to the United States Constitution, which was ratified in 1951 and allows a president to serve only two terms.
For 46 years, I was the Durand Township clerk. I had run unopposed in the independent elections held in April every four years. I wasn’t sure if that meant I was doing a great job or just that no one else wanted the nondescript, part-time position. In 2017, with my 80th birthday approaching, I felt it was time to step aside.
Becoming an octogenarian seems to be a milestone. Instead of every four years, I must pass an eye test and demonstrate my ability behind the wheel every two years to retain my Illinois driver’s license.
When I have my annual Medicare check-up in the doctor’s office, the nurse gives me three words, continues asking questions for several minutes and then asks me to repeat the same three words. I also must draw a clock face with the hands indicating the time she designates. I don’t know what happens if I fail those tests.
At 86, I feel confident handling my own affairs and writing. My memoir, “The View from a Midwest Ferris Wheel,” the story of our seven-year courtship in the 1950s, was published by Adelaide Books, an independent New York firm, two years ago. Every Wednesday, I continue to post to my blog, lolita-s-bigtoe.com.
People age differently. My father, a teetotaler and nonsmoker, was a retired farmer turned school janitor when his heart gave out at 63.
Clint Eastwood, actor, director and producer, is in his nineties and still active in the Hollywood movie industry. I’ve been a fan since the 1960s when he appeared as cowboy Rowdy Yates in the TV series, “Rawhide.”
Do you think we need term limits or maximum age limits for people to serve in public offices or continue to leave the decisions to the voters?