He hobbles along the road leading to the park. Pausing occasionally to get his bearing. He clutches a red plastic shopping bag that says Prakash General Stores on the sides. The gout around his toes slow him down. Leaving them red and swollen. Time has erased the watermark of his name-plates from his face. He has no real reason to wake up in the mornings at all. He waits for the metaphorical bus. Death is no longer a threat. It is desirable. He belongs to the invisible people
Bertha Silgado was my friend. She was 84 and lived in a home for the aged. She was withered and frail but her eyes shone like stones. No one noticed her much. She used to love to dance but arthritis had confined her to a chair and bed. When she expired, no one remembered to tell me. It was not the most important thing on their minds that day.
This isthe group of people we barely notice. We love them, respect them, look after them, but we don’t really notice them. Possibly the reason for this is that their lives have lost their meaning to us and then gradually to them.They may have once run empires, had grave professional respect and made a difference in the world they governed. Now, by virtue of their chronological age, appearance and function, they live in the margins, gradually caring less about the impression they make because “who would notice anyway”. They are the invisible people.
There is something about growing old that slowly makes them invisible. It is based on assumptions that “old people” are not in touch with the real world. They have physical and maybe mental impediments. So the best thing we can do is “make them comfortable” and give them something to amuse themselves with. But we would like them to stay out of the way.
There is a song by John Prine- Hello in there. It is a song he wrote long before he grew old. You can hear it on you tube. The insights he wrote about is worth a listen.
If we can only give their existence a purpose and meaning, they will become visible again and will emotionally un-wrinkle. We can respect their years of insights that drove businesses. We can “notice” the things they do. We can drop in sometimes and tell them about our lives.
While this is what I have planned for my post corporate days: I would learn a new craft, develop a new skill, or join a cause. Most of all, I would never abandon the discipline I had when I was in charge. It is this discipline that I believe will correct all other perspectives and give my life meaning and value.
Cedric Serpes is Associate
Professor at The Goa Institute
of Management. When he
wants to become invisible he wears a uniform.
