Adam Blatner

I turned eighty a month ago, and recently I was reminded of the word, “maturity.” Wow! I realized that in some ways I might be labeled “immature,” though I hereby declare myself mature enough.  I confess that I pushed the “underside” of maturity, almost being too immature. I’ve also reformed or redefined it, and now I think about it again as a friend in an email declares that he is a bit too immature. But I don’t find him that way. Lively, yes, but what is immaturity, anyway? I can see how he might be thought to be, but I find him charming and refreshing. It reminds me of the many times I’ve been labeled “immature.” Truth is, looking back on it, I have been, especially in underestimating the lack of spontaneity for most people. From that position everything more open and child-like, even a little bit, is immature.

I have chosen to be open, have married a woman who appreciates it (my second marriage), and seek to cultivate being child-like in some ways while avoiding becoming childish. Not easy. But mainly I now look on the word as an overgeneralization. Sometimes it refers to someone or something associated with childhood, but equally or more often it reflects the narrow-mindedness of the one using the word. So there. Haha.