I am at a party dedicated to wine, with all sorts of farmers who have dressed up for the celebration and where the care of the landscape by those who dedicate themselves to it is celebrated.
While I am talking with a producer of tomatoes of recovered varieties whom I particularly admire, a boy and a girl, with cameras and microphones, interrupt us and ask me if I could answer, “as the boomer I am”, some questions for a podcast “for young people”. I have become accustomed to politely answering any impolite question or comment and I generally try not to draw my sword from its scabbard, so as not to force anyone to make tearful reels. So I prepare to answer as a boomer.
In general, they are uninformed questions about wine consumption, which “is for boomers”. The boy, all smiles, asks: “After a glass of wine, should you burp?” And seeing my face of astonishment, he adds, as an excuse: “We are young and we don't drink wine, sorry, hey, don't get angry. We still have very infantile palates...”
The young man's complacency in saying “young people” revolts me. The merit of being young does not last forever, and I come from a sector –literature– where you are a “young author” right up until you are 40. That he asks me for forgiveness makes me think about how pleased with himself he is. In the room there are young farmers or farmers younger than him, who make wine. Their palates are not “infantile”, which would be inappropriate now, and they do not burp after tasting anything because they are people who know how to behave in places.
These young farmers, when they step outside their field and consume other forms of culture (the first of cultures is agriculture), such as books, music, or a program about boomers, like this one, do so with respect and, if necessary, admiration. Why? Because they do not have things easy. Because they suffer the easy sabotages of the self-satisfied every day. Because they are sensitive. The only merit of a young person who has everything cannot be recklessness.
