Page 207 - The Legacy of Abraham Rothstein - text
P. 207
Old age and the future
and gets his share in an easier way; but all are more or less occupied
in their striving, and all have the hope and desire to retire someday
and enjoy some leisure days and be happy
Desires have been in the human heart ever since our first
development from a single cell. If the first desire of the first man to
walk on his hind legs had been fulfilled without creating another
desire, then the human race would not have reached the present day.
One desire, when fulfilled, creates another desire, so desires
continuously evolve. We see today the problem being written about
and discussed in public how to provide mental sustenance for those
aged persons whose physical being is provided for. By nature
skeptical, hermetical, and ungregarious, I did not realize the
seriousness of the growing loneliness of an aged man, living in the
vast jungle of our big cities, his mate passed away, his children
married and scattered. I was fortunate to find work after my mate
passed away; it sustained my mind’s equilibrium eight hours of the
day while I was lonesome and brooding the rest of the time. As one
gets older and less productive, he is not wanted on the labor market
at any price. As the prophet Jeremiah said, “The bitter cup will reach
you too.” Those old men who have no mind, who enjoy cards,
chattering company, dancing, and hugging a pipe, do not feel it, but I
feel the bitterness of that cup.
The struggle for existence possesses every ordinary man—and
who is not ordinary, in this age of the machine and its driving force?
The basic needs of sustaining human existence, like food, clothing,
and shelter, have changed so fast in this machine age, complicating
and developing desires for all the things that the eye sees and the ear
hears, that one has to use all his energies to follow them and produce
labor value in exchange for that immense variety of food, clothing,
and shelter. With a family of four I was no exception, although I did
have the opportunity to have some social contact with people in the
Jewish community and make a few so-called friends—or rather,
acquaintances. My wife, who had two small children and the house to
take care of, had no chance of going out and meeting people. My
own sociability was going to a Zionist meeting once or twice a
month, not for dancing or entertainment, but to meet a dozen or so
elderly men and deal with the finances and arrangements for
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