Speaking of presidential politics, Jerry Springer died on Thursday.
Yes, that Jerry Springer, the Cincinnati lawyer-turned-politician-turned-commentator-turned-TV entertainer/cultural icon.
Springer wasn't running for public office. Born in London, England, to parents escaping the Holocaust, he couldn't have met the constitutional requirements to become the U.S. president even if he wanted to give it a try.
So what in the world does Springer have to do with presidential politics? When he took his last breath on Thursday, Springer was 79 years old.
Age, we're told, is relative. We suppose that means everyone ages a little differently. For whatever reason, some people can make it into the high-mileage category, while others run into trouble long before it even seems fair. Taking care of one's health increases the odds of a long life, but the obituary section reminds us far too often that there really are no guarantees.
Ageism is getting a fair share of attention these days. That's defined as prejudice or discrimination based on a person's age. Certainly, people shouldn't automatically disqualify someone on the basis of age.
But ...
The two men who seem to have favorable odds to earn their respective parties' nomination for president in 2024 are bringing the question of age to the forefront.
Advancing age earns a mix of respect and derision in our country: Many of us understand that the longer people live, the wiser they can become and the more likely they are to not overreact to immediate circumstances. They've "been there, done that" enough to know what does and doesn't have long-lasting impacts.
Then again, entering those latter years -- wherever that demarcation line is -- there's also the greater possibility that one's intellectual capacity may be slowed and physical capabilities might not remain strong enough to keep doing things they've always done.
There's no judgment in such observations. It's a reality everyone potentially faces, but not one that can be assumed at any particular age.
Joe Biden would be 83 years old by the time he's sworn in for a second term. Donald Trump would be 78 at the beginning of a second term in 2025.
Arkansas' own Asa Hutchinson, who formally announced his president campaign in Bentonville Wednesday, will have just turned 74 by Inauguration Day 2025. Kids these days!
Is any of this a disqualifier? Not at all. But should a candidate's age be dismissed as a potential factor one uses to consider whether to vote for someone? That's not exactly a fair expectation either.
Excluding the current president and all ex-presidents who are still living, as well as the four presidents whose premature deaths were the result of violence, the average age of death for the 35 other men who have held the office approaches 73 years old. That average is, of course, dragged down by the shorter life spans of many early presidents. To be fair, it must be noted that among the more recent ex-presidents, Jimmy Carter is 97; George H.W. Bush died at 94; Ronald Reagan and Gerald Ford died at 93; Richard Nixon died at 81. Bill Clinton and George W. Bush are 75 and Barack Obama is a young whippersnapper at 60.
How old is too old? There's simply no magic number anyone can point to and say "He's out, she's in, etc."
But should people be unconcerned about age when it comes to the presidency? If the question of the effect of one's health as she or he enters the late 70s or 80s is part of the discussion, should the folks who bring it up be shamed as "ageists?"
When it comes to the challenging job of occupying the Oval Office, voters would be foolish not to at least consider it, not as an automatic disqualifier but as one factor. If nothing else, doesn't it make the candidate's selection for the role of vice president critically important?
The question of a candidate's age is, perhaps, most important in the primaries as the field of candidates are whittled down. By the time the nation gets to consider the Republican and Democratic nominees, along with the numerous also-rans many people are surprised to find on the ballot, matters of policy are more than likely going to erase age as a final determinant of how people cast their ballots.
Readers of a certain age (pardon us!) may remember one of the greatest age-related moments in presidential campaign history. In an October 1984 debate between incumbent Ronald Reagan, 73, and Democratic challenger Walter Monday, 56, a moderator asked if Reagan had any concerns about age, as he was at that moment the oldest serving president on record. It was a concern on everyone's minds. Reagan said he had no worries about his abilities at all, then continued:
"I will not make age an issue of this campaign. I am not going to exploit, for political purposes, my opponent's youth and inexperience," he said. Even Mondale couldn't help laughing at Reagan's success in upending the issue. Reagan went on 16 days later to win 49 states on his way to a second term.
To this day, some people suggest Reagan, while president, suffered symptoms of the Alzheimer's Disease he was diagnosed with five years after he left office, but his White House physicians have long rejected such claims.
All we're saying is choosing a candidate for president must take all available information into account. It can be dangerous to put a 35 year old (the youngest age of eligibility, according to the Constitution) in the White House? It can also be dangerous putting someone whose body and mind have aged too much to be up to the four-year, relentless job of leading this nation. Exactly what age is "too much" undoubtedly depends on the individual candidate and individual voter.
As with so many issues relevant to presidential elections, voters and party leaders must pay close attention over the next year to decide for themselves whether age deserves to be an issue in 2024.