Kanye West has had Thanksgiving on lock. For some seasons, his albums have dropped right before the holiday break; the cold beats, nostalgia lyrics and hospitality toward guests evoke the homecoming spirit of the season. With torrents of heartache, cut by flurries of grand ambition, the songs dress major tragedies and triumphs in minor. Mr. West captures the feelings of the holidays: a modest gratitude stuffed with material overabundance, where even the simple praises become larger-than-life. Any person can be humble. Only Kanye is the most humble.
It is easy to become misdirected in our appreciation of our surroundings, to see the food, football and gifts, and forget what we are thankful for. The best part of the meal is not the stuffing or pie, but of course the conversation.
But at the table, something seems amiss. Talking to our elders, it is apparent how much things have changed. When they reminisce on the past, their stories seem richer, their experiences somehow more full. Their backgrounds are not just bathed in history but dipped in wisdom. I had a few anecdotes and was beginning to feel very young for my age.
For several reasons, it seems our generation has been slow to develop. Today's students grow up fast while the adults remain childlike, goes the adage. Medicine might let us live longer, but we are not getting any older.
There is certainly lacking a firm ideal of adulthood, a pinnacle of maturity. Growing up now comes in steps, with plateaus of maturity.
In high school, being mature meant being cool - advanced in knowledge of the forbidden. College maturity manifests in professionalism, with school as "work," and instead padding our resumes to look fuller. Already, we go from organization to organization, rushing the fraternities then business firms. We purchase suits to wear for the rest of our lives.
Technology provided the main impetus for this slowed aging. Children grew up on computers, which became not mere hobby, but capital tools. That familiarity paid dividends: the same kids that were called in to fix the kitchen computer or set-up the Wi-Fi were now plugging into the economy.
Companies have long appealed to the interests of young consumers, but these newborn technologies were utilized across the board. Social networking, new media, visual imagery; the playthings of our childhood became the currency of the adult world. Hence, the adults had to adjust. Retirees are getting on Facebook. Long-standing television stations feature younger and younger anchors, relaying online gossip and internet videos that are seriously trivial. A solemn newscaster plugs Twitter and I am compelled to ask: Isn't this a little childish?
In the culture, too, there is a movement towards puerility. As opposed to other professions, such as medicine or law, art is an endeavor that does not value experience. The younger the talent, the better.
For literature, the hallmark of a young writer is an obsession over philosophy, a mistaken belief that things like love and death can be understood by abstract ideals rather than the travails of human experience. "The young American novelist," wrote H.L. Mencken, "usually reveals himself as a naive, sentimental and somewhat disgusting ignoramus - a believer in Great Causes, a snuffler and eye-roller, a spouter of stale philosophies." In his debut novel, The Broom of the System, a young David Foster Wallace investigated Wittgensteinian philosophies of language. The author later felt the book was written by "a very smart fourteen-year-old."
Returning to rap, we find a figure who hopes to develop the genre. "I think in order for rap to have that sort of longevity, we have to stop viewing it as a young man's sport," Jay-Z said in a recent interview with Jon Stewart. For rap to become "a serious art form," he continued, "We have to grow it. We have to tackle mature subjects."
At this point, the adult table is nearly full. Yet there are still the artists and thinkers who approach, pulling up their own chair, hoping to add something to the conversation. While these masters discuss those questions - the old questions - the rest of us sit at the children's table, crying and shouting gaga.
Aaron Eisen's column appears Wednesdays in The Cavalier Daily. He can be reached at a.eisen@cavalierdaily.com.
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