ON YOUR 18th BIRTHDAY, NOW WHAT?
When do you become an adult?

When you turn eighteen you have the right to vote. Are you now magically transformed into a mature, insightful member of society as if you just walked through some special doorway? Did somebody show you the secret handshake? What profound change in your intellectual essence occurred as you slept through the night before?
We all know attaining maturity and wisdom is a lifelong journey. At some point a decision has to be made to grant our youth the privilege of citizenry with all its responsibility. So why is the 18th birthday now mostly symbolic?

I saw a poster in a store advertising the Powerball lottery with a bold disclaimer at the bottom stating you must be 21 to play.
Federal law provides strict rules for gun ownership by adults of 18 but a handgun (pistol or revolver) is purposely excluded from your grasp until you reach the “safe, responsible” age of 21.
When I turned 18, the state I lived in had just approved two bills the day before. One legalized pari-mutuel wagering on horses for those 21 and up at the new tracks being built in the state while the other raised the legal drinking age from 18 to 21, effective immediately. While my friends threatened to fire bomb the Court House and start robbing liquor stores, I simply wondered how something as ignorant as this gets implemented. What actually sets these omniscient wheels of “justice” in motion? My mother told me “Honey, that’s just the way it is when they pass new laws.” When “they” pass new laws, huh? So, just exactly who are “they”?

This was 1983 and I was becoming very aware of politics and power brokering, which was inescapable for me anyway. Meet my father and you’ll understand. I voted for the first time in 1984 for a great man, Ronald Reagan. He was, in case you didn’t know, pretty conservative and strong on defense. I was old enough to remember the Carter administration before (shivers up the spine) and make a distinct contrast. In a couple of years I was able to put a face with the name of partisan politics and see how moronic extremists from all sides can raise enough money, get enough media exposure, sway public opinion and strong-arm elected officials into cooperating with just about anything, logic be damned.

Using The "C" Word
To use two “C” words I hate, this is how a committee works out a compromise.
Politician Bubba wants to get legislation passed to allow the Big Money Horsie thing. It will rake in tons of tax dollars to fund wasteful and corrupt social programs the poor people want and make his Horsie buddies wealthy beyond belief. Politician Prudence thinks that gambling is an evil sin and the temptation is too much for the poor people to resist. She won’t allow the poor people to spend their own money as they see fit since she’s smarter than everybody who elected her.
She says “It won’t be allowed for those poor innocent fools under 21” as a way to discourage her opponents. The Horsie crowd agrees to anything in order to get their bill passed.
Then Politician Skeeter says “Wait a minute, those poor people too stupid to think for themselves can drink at 18 but can’t go to the track until they’re 21? This isn’t right. It should be 18 or nothing.”
Politician Billy Bob agrees and now the Big Money Horsie gang is looking across the table at the Goody Two-Shoes Temperance gang. An exchange of ideas follows that probably sounds like this;
“How can we allow those poor stupid people who elected us to be devoured by the evils of gambling? Their very souls are our responsibility, since they elected us and we’re so smart.”
“The state will bring in so much money, the government can buy them all NEW souls to go with their Welfare Cadillacs. Then they can haul their fatherless children to their Grandmothers house to live and she’ll take them to church. She can afford it. After all, she’s on Social Security.”
“Maybe we should raise the drinking age as well so there will be no more crime, alcoholism, unwed mothers, abortions, divorce or social malaise. The sun will shine, the birds will sing and we will all live together in perfect harmony like Ebony and Ivory, side by side on a piano keyboard.”
The Big Money Horsie crowd astutely observes a brief moment of unity and agreement and, as any smart business people would do, they cash in their chips. They all jump up and shout “Yes!!! Yes!!! What a beautiful concept, and by working together this wise, powerful and esteemed committee will make it a reality!!!”
The rest of the legislators get caught up in a righteous fervor of self-congratulation and, with their egos sufficiently stroked, an approving vote is cast. Being driven by money and power is the norm here, only the Big Money Horsie crowd is actually honest and transparent about it. They high-five each other and bolt for the door before anyone comes to their senses. They have to get to the bank and call all their rich Horsie buddies with the good news.

The very next day I turned 18 and bought beer illegally just as I always had. I’m not sure, but I believe all the stupid people are still stupid and most of the poor people are still poor. Oh yeah, and all the politicians probably still think EVERYONE else is stupid and they still don’t actually KNOW a single poor person. Taxes continue to rise, both on the middle class who can’t escape them through investments or shelters since they have to LIVE on the money they earn, and the more or less affluent business owner who cannot hire more workers because everything he does to grow his business has tax consequences. He would hire poor people in a heartbeat if it was good for his business and could increase his profit.


14,15,16,17,18,19,20,21....
Now, as a responsible young man I was granted the privilege of a driver’s license at the age of 14. It was restricted in that I could travel only to school or work (yes, work at 14) without a licensed adult of 16 years or older in the passenger seat.
At 17 I could join the Army with my mothers consent and be trained to fire machine guns and artillery. I could go to tank school. I could handle bombs, mortars, grenades, detonators and explosives. I could travel anywhere in the world to kill people and maybe even get killed myself. When I came home on leave, though, I still could not touch a simple pistol.

I could legally have sex with any unmarried woman once we were both 16. I could get married to this or any other woman as long as she was given parental consent. I could get tattoos or piercings when I was an infant.
(Seriously, how many baby girls get their ears pierced? Way too many in my opinion.)
Their mother makes that decision for them before they’re old enough to speak.
At 18 I could be off to college, able to live on my own and make everyday decisions for myself. I would be liable if I wrote a hot check, stole a six-pack of beer, wrecked my car, got arrested and posted my own bail. Our legal system would not call my father.

The whole 21 thing really bummed me out when I was 18. Over two decades later I find it unfair, ambiguous, and inconsistent from state to state as well as patently absurd. Give adults ALL the rights, privileges and responsibilities to lead their life at the age of 18, without restriction.
The Federal government should mandate this, then allow the individual 50 states and they could manage their own affairs.
The argument that sufficient maturity is not present in every 18 year old is bogus. Many people never get a grip in their entire life. We already have laws, societal pressures and customs to handle the malcontents that rear their head in every aspect of life, so let the fittest survive. Our world would be a better place if the failures were allowed to actually fail. Learn from your mistakes and try again.

The Liberals get worked up over a concept such as this because it could hurt a person’s self-esteem.
Well, here’s a news flash for you; self esteem is developed thru accomplishment, not granted as a privilege and that’s how the best and brightest could truly excel. All involved would learn real-world lessons of survival instead of being suffocated in a politically correct quagmire of mediocrity.