Editor's note: This column was written before Thursday night's presidential debate.
(READ MORE: How the Biden-Trump debate could change the trajectory of the 2024 campaign)
So here we are in the summer of 2024, stuck with two presidential candidates born in the 1940s.
Former President Donald Trump, 78, was born in 1946. He is among the oldest Baby Boomers. Meanwhile, President Joe Biden, 81, was born in 1942. He is a member of the Silent Generation.
For context, we have two candidates born before the midpoint of the 20th century, while we are just shy of the quarter-poll of the 21st century. Something feels off. I thought Ronald Reagan was old when he was elected for a second term at age 73.
Most people I talk to think we would be better off with younger candidates. A match along the lines of J.D. Vance, 39, Republican U.S. Senator of Ohio, vs. Gretchen Whitmer, 52, Democratic governor of Michigan, seems to be a better generational fit for America in 2024. I think our two Gen Z sons would be a lot more energized by such a matchup than they are by Trump-Biden 2.0.
So why are these older guys running? If you take away the obvious dynamic that both have had a taste of power and are still hungry for more, you're left with the unmistakable scent of generational hubris. It's a powerful force that often makes politicians hold onto positions past their sell-by dates.
Biden promised to be a "transitional candidate" before the 2020 election but ultimately couldn't let go of the office. Trump never conceded defeat in 2020, which made it all but certain that he would run again in 2024.
It's as if both guys are saying: Get off my (White House) lawn!
I've been reading a book called "Unretired: How Highly Effective People Live Happily Ever After" by journalist Mark S. Walton. In a nutshell, Walton's book makes the case that high-functioning older Americans often retire from careers well before they want, or need, to.
The book is a series of interviews with older Americans who have successfully decided to stay on the job into their 70s or 80s. Some retired but quickly realized that they were unhappy and reentered the workforce. (Admittedly, Walton's subjects were highly educated professionals, not bricklayers with worn-out backs.)
(READ MORE: Study: American workers plan to slow-roll into retirement)
There's a chapter in Walton's book that particularly resonated with me: "Examining the Unretired Brain." In this section, Walton talks to a New York City neuropsychologist, Elkhonon Goldberg, who has noted a phenomenon among seniors that can be loosely described as the emergence of wisdom.
Walton quotes Goldberg (then 65) as saying: "Frequently, when I am faced with what would appear from the outside to be a challenging problem, the grinding mental computation is somehow circumvented and rendered, as if by magic, unnecessary. The solution comes effortlessly, seamlessly, seeming by itself."
I reread this quote a second time, and then a third. I immediately recognized the feeling. I'm 66 years old, and when somebody asks me a question, my opinions flow like water. I rarely have to ponder, frown or stroke my chin. I just open my mouth and talk.
But is this really the birth of wisdom, or is it false confidence — a sort of well-informed glibness that comes with advanced age?
Personally, I don't entirely trust my brain, I just find it easier and easier to manufacture opinions. Sometimes I walk away from a group meeting or one-on-one conversation with the vague feeling that I have sounded like a know-it-all.
On the other hand, perhaps the brain does develop some higher efficiency as we age. Maybe this is what our current presidential candidates are experiencing: a burst of intuition propelling them to a higher level of mental competence and excellence.
Nah, probably not.
Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6645.