In conversations with friends and in my writings, I have sometimes expressed opinions that may be fairly characterized as “old school.” Now, let’s take a look at that term and its meaning and connnotations. Old school looks back to a time when things were neither flashy nor lacked substance; there was no pandering to the lowest common denominator, and genuine skill for tasks was required. We are dealing with broad generalizations here, but anything that is viewed—by some—as uncool, out of style or somehow not up-to-date is old school. Its opposite, of course, is “new school.”
I can think of a few ways in which I am indisputably old school. I do not favor tattoos or graffiti, as they seem unhealthy, decadent and offensive. Nor do I favor plastic surgery unless it is truly necessary. In some cases it is, and we should be thankful that such medical procedures have been developed. But it has been abused by many people in the never-ending pursuit of beauty. I am told that Korea is the world capital of plastic surgery and that many of the lovely women I see on the streets of Seoul every day have availed themselves of it. Alas, the high school graduation gift for some girls is an all-expenses paid visit to a plastic surgery clinic.
No country is more wired than Korea, and people here pride themselves on being early adopters. That is, the newest high-tech gizmos are bought and put to use just as soon as they are marketed. I, who am using an old laptop and did not have a cell phone until 2008, am not an early adopter. I'm way behind the curve.
It should come as no surprise that I don’t like rap music or hip-hop culture or anything relating thereto. If they contain a shred of real value, I invite you to tell me what it is. I do not care what the Wonder Girls’ latest hit song is. Instead, a well-played version of any of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos renders me happy and satisfied.
A final example that stamps me with the old-school label is the recent revolution in college football uniforms. The University of Oregon has been the leader in this most unfortunate trend where teams come out on the field in increasingly tricked-out unis. We see all kinds of wild stuff on the helmets, jerseys and pants, and school colors are all too often abjured. (The University of Maryland’s splendidly awful uniforms are pictured above.) From week to week, the players are presented in new combinations that some fans, at least, like very much. As indicated already, I do not.
So am I a curmudgeon and a totally negative person? By no means. I can offer two reasons why my way works just fine. The first pertains to race and ethnicity. Look inside my heart and you will find that I believe in the goodness of all people. Every culture, every race—anthropologists strongly object to the concept of race—is worthy of respect and admiration. As a person of European descent, I have engaged in years of study and labor to rid myself of the sense of superiority that was bred into me growing up in segregated Dallas in the 1950s and 1960s. Without guilt or shame, I say that my people are neither paramount nor central but just part of the broad spectrum, and I realize that human life began in eastern Africa. Go back far enough and you will see that we are all Africans.
My second example involves the female of the species. While I refuse to idealize women or say that they are angelic creatures whose feet never stink, I hold them in high regard. I find it worth the effort to learn about the domination they have endured in centuries past. I have loved too many female babies, girls and women to count. Nobody could rightfully call me a misogynist because I am a true believer in the equality of the sexes.
Old school, new school, who cares? I’m just glad to be alive!
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