I have been reading newspapers almost every day of my life because I was told by my sixth grade teacher that one should do so in order to succeed in this newsworthy world. Now many years have passed, and I believe success is eminent: I am about to become a famous journalist.

Mind you that I have not attended journalism school nor do I own a style manual, but my reading experience has taught me several tricks of the trade that fall under the heading of style, the proper way for journalists to write. Some of them I don’t quite understand, but I follow them anyway.

For instance, journalists have a certain rule of thumb they follow when describing persons: the biographical information should include the person’s age.

Since we all must die, most of us are age-conscious, no matter how much we try to avoid reality by thinking about something else. The first detail I look for when I read the obituaries is the age at death, and I compare that to my own age. At first I wanted to know how long I probably had left to live, but now that so many people now die younger than I happen to be at the time of their death, my estimates have proven erroneous, therefore I proceed each day with some fear and trembling but with gladness and relief as well.  And then I look for the cause of death, which is often somewhere at the bottom of the article, and wonder if I shall die that way, and what that would be like. I think I would not mind passing away voluntarily, perhaps under the influence of nitrous oxide, at a funereal party given in my honor, replete with journalism awards.  And then I read the biography, if the deceased person was a famous author, and I look up some of the things she or he wrote.

Yes, age is important, and for many reasons, so it should be mentioned by bona fide journalists in respect to certain important persons, say, politicians. While perusing the paper I hate and love the most, the Miami Herald, I noticed the photos of a dozen elected or appointed officials of Broward County, Florida who had been either arrested or convicted of charges of public corruption. The name of each official was followed by his or her age. The ages are given for the reader to make certain assumptions.

Three persons in this rogue’s gallery are women, so we may expect at least a quarter of people arrested or convicted of public corruption to be female. But it is the age that counts. All of the officials are over 37, and that proves that we were right, when we were young and said, “Don’t trust anyone over thirty.” And 83% are over age 50. Fully half are in their 60s. Only one is over 70, which may say something about mortality or wisdom.

This dirty dozen is probably only the tip of many corrupt icebergs. Now we may make several conclusions about age-related public corruption:  The older officials get, the more desperate they become; the more likely they are to steal, accept bribes, and defraud people and the like. It takes some time to build up enough public trust to make corruption worthwhile. The longer a corrupt official is in office, the more careless the official may become, thinking she or he will not be caught.

Speaking of politicians, I encountered another article in the Miami Herald with ages given, this one about investigations into the lavish spending of the Florida GOP. I see that Susan Wright, the whistleblower, is 57. Jim Greer, the former party chairman, is 48. His right-hand man Delmar Johnson is 31. But ages are not given for other persons mentioned in the article; say for Richard Swarttz, party CFO, nor for Allen Cox, a Gulf County committeeman, nor for Jason Gonzalez, the party’s attorney. By the way, we might also like to know the age of the reporter, Marc Caputo.

Many Miami readers, as we know, are keen to know personal information about Cuban spies. I noticed a story about Walter and Gwendolyn Myers. Walter’s age was not given, but we know Gwendolyn is 72, and then only because her age was relevant to the sentencing, as to whether or not she would die in prison. Let us just say that Walter is pretty old, as can be seen in the photograph. The age of U.S. District Judge Reggie B. Walton was not given, apparently because the reporter, whose age we wonder about, did not think that biographical detail was pertinent because the personage of the judge was irrelevant to the story – some readers may beg to disagree with that assessment.

We are glad to discover that the Grim Sleeper serial killer is 57. And we now know that Melissa Smith, a Pensacola writer mentioned in an article about Jimmy Buffet as a Gulf benefactor, is 50, and that Buffet fan Wayne Cushion is 51, but Jimmy Buffet’s age is not mentioned, and we want to know how old he is lately. And in a discussion of gays in the military, Pentagon press secretary Geoff Morrell’s age is not disclosed, although that might be relevant to the perspective of persons under thirty years of age. And how old is Barbara Kennelly, president of the National Committee to Preserve Social Security? We do not know, although that biographical detail would be significant to many of us in the context of her opinions; we do not care where she was born, went to school, and so on.

Who am I to question a rule of journalism just because its application might seem inconsistent to me? After all, I am unable to divine or induce the exact rule for giving ages from reading newspapers, not even the New York Times. Again, I do not own a style guide or editor’s manual or textbook in journalism, so what do I know? Not much. So I contacted the Miami Herald for a quotation from the relevant manuals and an explanation of how the rule, to give a person’s age, would apply. In the meantime, I shall do my best to obey it.

Indeed, far be it for me to ignore a rule along the royal road to eminence in journalism, even when the rule is unclear to me. At least, when I am writing about someone, I always ask them for their age. But sometimes they balk at the question. A South Beach interior designer did just that the other day.

Abigail Lee Houser, the South Beach interior designer who may design the interiors of the Miami Beach International School of the Fine Arts, which may be located catty corner from the Bass Museum in South Beach’s CANDO District, said she was born and raised in Knoxville, Tennessee. Her parents made her work and pay rent when she became a teenager. And they made her pay her own tuition at Southern Belle Finishing School, where, she said, she first became interested in design.

“A design must have a good foundation, she said, and that shall be its saving grace.”

For example, she said, a lady’s undergarments are the foundation of her array and may well be her salvation. That foundation must be carefully selected for effect. She lifted her skirt and twirled around, to show me her legs, from ankles to thighs.

“As you can see, I have no varicose veins or blotches on my legs, and that is because I wear the right hose. You must admit that my legs are quite beautiful for a woman my age.”

“How old are you, may I ask?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because your age is obviously pertinent to your statement, that your legs are beautiful for a woman your age.”

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

“Indeed, they are, and I certainly appreciate the biographical information, from a news reporter’s objective standpoint, of course. May I inquire again, into your age?”

“You may not, unless it’s off the record.”

“All right, then, I shall not mention your age.”

I must admit I was not at all astonished by the number she disclosed - a number somewhat less than my own age. I had had the great pleasure in my youth of becoming closely acquainted with a woman thrice my own age, and she had the voluptuous yet firm body of an immortal Venus.

Now the reader may wonder how I got my article by the editor without him or her demanding to know the age of the famous founder of Cameo Design, or nixing the article if Ms. Houser refused to disclose it or at least to tell a credible  lie.

Well, I don’t have an editor. I am a truly independent journalist, and as such I am, as one critic once said, three stooges in one: writer, editor, and publisher. But I still try to follow the rules of journalism the best I can, so I dropped all mention of Abigail Lee Houser in my article about South Beach interior designers. Unless the rule changes, only a few people will know about the secret foundation of Ms. Houser’s beautiful legs, or, for that matter, her exact age.

Miami Beach, Florida
July 14, 2010

Thanks to the Nigerian spy for giving me this computer, to the Russian spy for fixing it, and to the Southern  spy with beautiful legs for the monitor.