… knowing when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em

Those of us on the side of democracy and all things sane and human had been in an unprecedented malaise in the weeks leading up to last Sunday (and you know it was bad when I start co-opting Kenny Rogers lyrics to make a point). Watching the seething beast of the Trump machine ooze its smug certainty all over the place while Democrats scratched their heads, wrote cranky op-eds, and pondered which country to abscond to next year, one wondered if there was any reasonable answer to our seemingly endless conundrum.

Then Joe made his move.

Unexpected by most, in the quiet of his own counsel, with no grand headlines or “breaking news” hysteria, he gracefully announced he was leaving the race and changed the course of history. If ever a baton-pass had more impact on modern America, I’d like to know what it was.

My son texted with the news (I was busy housecleaning in a desperate break from media). Mind blown, I responded with something unprintable here, put down my Windex, and raced to cable news (which I hadn’t watched in so long I can’t remember how long), transfixed as breathless pundits parsed what this meant, how it had transpired, what steps would follow, etc. Then Biden trumped himself (sorry… it was a word before it was a man): he endorsed his VP, Kamala Harris, as the Democratic nominee for president.

Heads exploded around the universe, and as graceful as Joe’s words and actions were, the excitement and commotion that followed were wildly hyperbolic… but in a good way this time. It was as if the doom and gloom of previous weeks (months?) lifted, and we felt true, unassailable hope for the first time in a very long time and, damn, we were so ready to run.

That, my friends, is a mic-drop baton pass.

Because it can’t have been easy. Odds are good — based on his prior statements, his feisty turnarounds after the kill-shot of the debate; his edgy dismissals of the growing demands to move along — he did not want to step down. Not a bit. He wanted to “finish the job.”

But somewhere along the way the needle tipped. I don’t know who said what to tip it; if there was a process he internalized to get there, but he came to the moment when he got up out of mid-recovery from Covid, wrote his statement, and passed it on to the world. We can presume, after the post-debate hellscape of frenzied insults and denigrations from media, the always-slathering GOP; even certain friends and neighbors in the party, that the decision, the resolve, the action, had to have kicked his gut a little. A lot. But even so… he put aside his own needs, his hurt and disappointment, and did it, transforming Election 2024 from a mosh pit of despair into a hope-infused, ever-growing march of millions toward victory (for the Democrats; Republicans are pulling out their “How To Racist 101” manuals and trying to remember which sexist tropes they liked best from “Kamala 2019”).

But here’s the thing about baton passing: it can be tricky knowing when you should, when you must, and when you damn well get to hang onto yours. Or, as Kenny Rogers said, “know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em” (I know… I’m sorry). At a time when ageism is rampant (was it ever not?), we’re aware that cultural disdain for all things old can be conveniently disguised as a benign “for your own good shove out the door leave your keys on the table go have fun, grandpa, the younger crew is on fire and they’ve got it covered” sort of thing.

Those who find value in categorizing people along arbitrary dividing lines are easily prodded into that sort of thing, pointing fingers in reductive “generation wars” for example: Boomers ruined everything, Gen Xers are whiny slackers, Millennials and Gen Z are both lazy and entitled… no one’s sure which more than the other. But as viral as those mud-fights can get, pigeonholing based on what “generation” someone falls into is both ageist and absurd, whether applied to the old or young. Where it gets sticky, and what older people face almost exclusively, is the choreography poetically defined as “passing the baton,” or “torch, or “mantle” … whatever metaphor gets an old person out the door, whether it’s warranted, the right time, or the right action.

In Biden’s case, it clearly, ultimately, was, and kudos to that wise man for figuring it out. But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes the shove is just cold, ugly ageism at work. Sometimes the shovee not only wants to continue managing the baton but is perfectly capable of doing so. Sometimes an older baton holder can peacefully co-exist with a younger one, and nobody has to pass anything.

I had to laugh at a particular moment in the Beckham documentary series on Netflix (which I loved, by the way). In the last episode, Victoria and David are in their kitchen summarizing their journeys both individually and as a couple, musing about the priority of cherishing their family, the life they’ve built together, each other, when Victoria, standing behind David, says, “There’s an element of you passing the baton on a little; you want that for your kids, wouldn’t you say?” David takes a beat, then glances over his shoulder in her direction and very seriously responds, “I’m not ready to pass the baton on yet.”

I laughed out loud because I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said those exact words to someone suggesting some version of the same to me. As an actress trying to crack that code while racing against a clock that doesn’t like older women. As a singer/songwriter fending off purportedly well-meaning suggestions of, “You must be so ready to leave it to the young ones, right?” As a writer told to hide my age lest editors decide I’m too old to have the requisite contemporary sensibilities. At each juncture, when encouraged to accept the inevitability of obsolescence, I, too, answered, “I’m not ready to pass the baton on yet.”

That’s me, bending it like Beckham.

There was a time when older generations were automatically expected to step aside, but that was back when life expectancy was shorter, anyone past mid-40s dressed like mom and dad, and health and fitness standards were considered the realm of youth. Much has changed in recent decades and in today’s world many older Americans are not only engaged and contributing via jobs and professions, they’re still exploring, still excited about new ideas and evolving opportunities. People behave younger, look younger, and remain vital longer. They’re not planning to “wind down” once they’re past the decade that begins with five. They’re less interested in tapping into their pension than continuing to contribute to one. And they see no reason to pass the baton to some younger version of themself while still happily running with the thing.

Especially given the virtual workplace of the Internet, there’s room for every generation to not only simultaneously participate, but be valued and sought after for their particular “brand,” their level of experience and worldview. Rather than shove older generations off on the ice floe of irrelevance, we should maximize their available voices to lead, guide, educate, and inspire. We can still look to our young for freshness, innovation and culturally Zeitgeisty perspective, but there’s no good reason we can’t also tap into the well of experience, talent, and wisdom of our elders.

Before Sunday’s announcement, I was all-in on Joe continuing his campaign. I didn’t need him to step down, even after the debate. I had faith it was one bad night, and enthusiastically applauded the speeches and interviews that followed, making note of his improved vigor and delivery. I continued to respect his positive contribution, understanding that he’s an almost 82-year-old man, not expecting him to be anything else, embracing him as an elder mentoring and modeling brilliant, compassionate leadership for younger politicians following in his path. But…

When he made the decision he did, I do believe — however influenced he might have been by others — it was his decision. HIS. And that made it the right one. That made it one I could get behind. Despite my sadness for whatever pain or loss he must clearly have felt, I trusted him to know it was, in that moment, the right time for him to pass the baton and he did… graciously, wisely; respectfully, to Kamala, and BOOM! The entire landscape of the election changed, making clear it was the right time and decision.

It takes great political skill to calculate and understand that kind of timing, and it takes a great leader to not only figure it out, but act on it with strategic precision. Joe Biden gave a master class on the move: the timing (post RNC… legend!), the tone, the humble respect for the needs of a nation, the sheer selflessness at a time when politics too often operates as ego-fodder for vainglorious attention-seekers. His candid, heartfelt Oval Office speech of Wednesday asked us all the right questions, was candid in expressing his initial hopes for continuing (yes, Joe, your record did merit a second term), but was clear in his understanding of the demands of this unique, urgent juncture.

He set the standard, Joe Biden, and he will be remembered by history as a great man who knew exactly when it was time to guide himself out the door.

Baton passing with grace and dignity.

I won’t ruin the gravitas of that by quoting Kenny again.

Photo courtesy of The White House, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

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