Tag Youth

It’s the Most Unwonderful Time of the Year

Michael 12 Comments

It’s time for my annual “Woe is me” party. I figure I have lots of reasons to celebrate my misfortunes. A rare weird disease, cancer, blood clots, lack of mobility, dialysis. Too much plaid in my wardrobe. The list goes on. But those are everyday disasters and things that almost everybody else will go through. Maybe not all of them or the ones you someday experience not all at once. But these are the things people deal with. And I deal with them pretty well. I have good family and good friends and a good medical team to help me along.

But all the help and support from family members and dialysis nurses won’t change the fact that on Wednesday I’m going to wake up alone. There will be no card taped to the bathroom mirror, they’ll be no second place setting at breakfast (and that’s a shame because I’m planning on a traditional Eggs Benedict with my own Hollandaise), there’ll be no impromptu dancing in the living room in front of an open window for the world to see that old people can still love.

I suppose old people still love. I see them. I know some who are seemingly doing all the right things. Maybe that’s it. Seemingly. In my experience, getting old did not help in the still loving department.

Broken_Heart_Pose_(1)First there was the ex. Forgive me for being so old fashioned here but by “ex” I shouldn’t have to explain ex what. It kills me when people refer to someone they dated three times as their ex. That’s a “guy or girl I dated.” Or someone they saw for almost a year. That’s an “old boyfriend.” By the way there is no “old girlfriend.” Just someone “I used to spend time with” accompanied by a wistful look into nowhere. But no, these people aren’t exes. There has to be something that existed to be exed out of. To me “ex” will always and only be an ex-wife. Or husband depending on your point of view.

Anyway, first there was the ex. We weren’t that bad when we were. We had our moments but then we also had our moments. It was hard getting together in the 70’s. Things were expensive. Money was expensive. It was not a time of destination weddings and yearly two week tropical vacations, new cars, new houses, or new tires no matter how much the mechanic whined they weren’t going to pass inspection next time. We’ll worry about it then. And that was pretty much how we got though out first 10 years. Worrying about it then. And then by the next 10 years we didn’t have to worry so much. Cars were newer. Houses were big enough that the daughter could have her own room with lots of space to spare. Plans were made and met and new ones thought up. One plan that caught us off guard was that I planned on turning 40 and she didn’t. So when I did and she should have soon followed there was lots of holding back and plans changed. Eventually my 40 turned 45 and her never ending 39 regressed to 30 and the 15 years difference was too much for her.

comforting__hearttle_6__by_domobfdi-d7186dwYears went by and I would meet a somebody now and then in between being dad and homemaker. Single parenting isn’t much fun for the male set either in case you’re wondering. Eventually a new she entered and if she wasn’t perfect, she was just right. Right enough that space could be made for her. We danced and swam and festivaled. We visited places from northern falls to tropical islands and enjoyed time in farm markets and art studios. Plans were made and met and new ones thought up. One plan that caught us off guard was that I planned on getting cancer (well, part of me did but didn’t bother to tell the rest of me until it was too late) and she planned on me always being the same. So when I did and the cure necessitated removing some parts of me, and some of those parts were the parts that impart a certain amount of masculinity to maleness, and plans changed. We struggled a bit until the phone call that spoke of things wanted and things able and they weren’t the same things. And then sometime in our 8th, maybe 9th, could have been 10th year, the new she began to become someone I used to spend time with.

So twice bitten I’ve had no will to risk adding even a girl I used to date to my record. The desire, yes. The will, no. I’d love to have someone warm to hold close at night or to slog through mud tracked roads leading to the demonstration area at the maple festival. Someone to see the old ships of New England and the old houses of the Old Country. Or someone to sit next to and read a book for the fourteenth time and for the thirteenth time to explain that it’s OK to reread a book. Or someone to share an Eggs Benedict then dance with in front of a window

Nope, not the most wonderful week of the year for me. But that’s ok. There are 51 others to amuse me. I’ll be back to normal sometime next week.

 

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Life Needs a Soundtrack

Michael Leave a comment

Do you know a problem with real reality? There are no clues to what’s coming next. Life needs a soundtrack.

Watch any movie or television show, even the so-called “reality” shows, and you see that they all have musical accompaniment. It’s quite clear when someone or something is to be happy, sad, humorous, suspenseful, romantic, mysterious, thrilling, or chilling. Just about the only time the background is silent is when the director intends for extreme drama. Even commercials have background music. Everything from auto insurance to male erectile dysfunction therapy has an associated tune. Why can’t we.

It sounded like a good idea when it popped into my head. Heaven knows there’s enough music up there. I’m always mentally humming a tune, a jingle, a theme. How hard would it be for that to be amplified and spill out around me so I know for sure what mood I’m in – not to mention everyone else who might be in the area?

It’s hard enough to get through a day without being misunderstood. Think of all the relationships that could be saved if there was a full orchestra ready to turn despair to hope, hope to thought, and thought to action. Imagine the peace people could experience if daily routines were spiced up with a bluesy southern anthem or smoothed out by a soft jazz composition. Think of your daily commute to the tune of a driving chorus instead of the tune of blaring horns and mufflers in need of repair.

If you really want to explore this idea, can we consider making life a musical? On second thought, I don’t know if I can handle a sudden eruption of song and dance while standing in line at the deli counter. “You’re the ham that I want. Ooo, ooo, ooo honey,” doesn’t run trippingly off the tongue even if you are looking for that tasty lunchmeat. No, just a soft background perhaps of Dave Matthews Band’s Pig song.

Like I said, it sounded like a good idea when it popped into my head.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Let’s Be Careful Out There

Michael Leave a comment

The great candy/costume countdown has begun!  Depending on where you live it could be just 4, 5, or 6 short days till Treat or Treat Night.  We’d say till Halloween but that’s always October 31 no matter what calendar you’re using.  Why the varied time spans?  Because October 31 (Halloween, remember) is on a Friday this year.  We don’t know about where you are but here that’s high school football playoff time.

So people don’t have to decide between the lessor of the two evils (or greater of the two hauls), many municipalities within school districts involved in the playoffs are opting to move one or the other.  Since football is an immovable feast, Trick or Treat is the one to go.  It seems like that might confuse the ones who are the most excited about Trick or Treating (Halloween party attendees excluded).  Those would be the little ones, the same little ones who watch the television sit coms and specials that feature their stars Trick or Treating on Halloween – a sort of novel concept for this year.

A quick check on the Internet revealed that at least 26 communities in our county (out of 100+) are holding onto tradition, including both He and She’s. It just seems right that Trick or Treat happens on Halloween.

But there could be issues.  And not just football conflicts.  Most places allow Trick or Treating from 6 to 8pm.  Most football games start at 7.  There could be a mad rush at the beginning of the tour with folks hurrying to still make it to the games.  And it is a Friday.  There will be parties – house parties, office parties, bar parties.  All of them will have people rushing to and fro, mostly in SUVs way too big for just one person versus multiple children.   And then we’ll add that here our local weather forecast is calling for mild and clear all week long, except for Friday night when it will be cold and rainy.  Translation: it will be slippery and extra dark.

Even with the potential for problems Halloween fun belongs on Halloween, including Trick or Treat.  Kids are kids only once (Halloween party attendees excluded).  We just have to make sure that the potential for avoiding problems is stronger than the reverse.  Halloween night, it’s always a great evening for a neighborhood stroll – just be careful out there!

Now that’s what we think. Really. How ‘bout you.

 

Old & Fat Trumps Drunk & Stupid

Michael Leave a comment

Let’s just say it was a long week in the North East.  Freezing temps, icy rain and periods of snow certainly didn’t help.  By the end of the week, we were ready to visit one of our favorite watering holes and we weren’t looking for water.  She of We wanted wings, He of We wanted bourbon.  A snowy rush hour had everyone ready for a warm happy hour. This was the place we go to make that hour happy.  Here we have seen regulars and irregulars, old owners and new owners, children of owners and now grandchildren of owners.  We’ve been around a whiler.

The bar was crowded so we sat at one of those bar top tables on stools that you figure out quickly why they are called that.  One half of one of our favorite couples came over and joined us. His She was out of town on business so it was a party of three.  As the place started to fill up, we found ourselves surrounded by the youth of America. Twenty-somethings who needed cheap beer to guzzle and women to annoy. That’s when the trouble started. 

Our friend headed home and we decided to stay and catch the band. You know how we love live music.  We quickly figured out that we have gained a super power when it comes to twenty-somethings. Invisibility. You see, we were in a crowd and nobody paid any attention to us.  Nobody even noticed us.  And noticeability is one of our best attributes. It was while we were in our cloak of invisibility that one particularly inebriated youth, perhaps on his maiden voyage to Drunkville, perhaps a regular visitor, decided he was going to help himself to She of We’s wing basket.

Please understand that usually She of We is very generous but having her wings grabbed without permission is a big no-no.  We’ve all visited Drunkville a time or two so we’re no strangers to bad, drunken behavior. He of We protested on her behalf and that’s when it turned ugly. Drunk Boy and his buddy decided that insulting us would somehow make us feel bad. They thought by using words like old and fat that we would be impressed by them. (A note before we continue.  You know all these anti-bullying programs going on in schools?  Well, once they hand out the diplomas and these fools are on their own, add an adult beverage to an adult in training and it goes right out the window.  We like to call it Beer Backbone or just plain ignorance. We know your parents taught you better.) 

Anyway, She of We decided that enough was enough. We’re old, remember. We’ve been around, remember.  She politely informed the drunken buffoons that it was time for their leave.  Yeah right, they said and not too politely, nor too intelligently.  That was went she calmly moved from her stool, parted the sea of newbies like Moses parting the Red Sea, and aimed herself right at the owner.  Without blinking an eye, she informed him that he needed to bid these guests adieu.  He followed her back to our table, tapped the lads on the shoulder and let them know, just as calmly, that it was time to go. The look of shock on their stupid, young, drunken faces was priceless. No pomp, no circumstance, and no drama. Just “you’re outta here.” 

Both of We hope that our twentysomething children never act like that but we know they will. We only hope that some nice, old, fat couple will be able to set them straight.  And when called for, send them to the door.  And to the optometrist the next day.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Welcome to 2013. Now Go Away

Michael Leave a comment

Just because we don’t make resolutions until Spring is upon us (See Resolving to Keep it Real, Dec. 31, 2012) doesn’t mean we can’t be urged into encouraging others to change their behavior post haste.  We’ve gotten to experience some horrible behavior that could fill an entire year in only the first week.  And that behavior must stop.

We encountered the one that put us over the edge while we were coming out of the store and walking to our car, some 150 feet from the entrance.  As we approached it, the anything but a gentleman sitting in the car parked next to ours, started beeping his horn.  And then again.  Longer.  And then we saw why.  His certainly long-suffering wife was behind us trudging through the cold and the slush with their packages.  Apparently he felt it more prudent that he stay in the warm car while she goes into the store and buys his wares.  He also felt it more prudent that he sit in the warm car rather than picking her up at the entrance.  He knew she was done with their shopping.  He was honking the horn at her.  There was the extent of his chivalry.  He honked the horn so she didn’t have to wander throughout the lot looking for him.  Then to top things off, he let that car continue to sit in the parking space.  The one that had a snow bank just outside the passenger door.  When She of We said a bit too out loud, “He won’t even back out for her so she doesn’t have to climb through the snow,” the long-suffering wife said, “It’s ok. I’m used to it.”  She shouldn’t have to ever become used to such rude behavior.  So for 2013 he should resolve to figure out how to get along without her because eventually she’ll realize that also.

Other behavior we’d like to see not continued in 2013 is the media fascination with having to title all the news.  No longer are they happy reporting it.  Now they have to make up catch phrases to go along with it.  So please, take your fiscal cliff and go jump off of it.  Otherwise let’s at least have a little fun with it.  Since we’ve either avoided it or fallen off of it depending on what analyst is babbling, it should no longer be part of the evening news’ scripts.  But just in case it should sneak back into common parlance we propose the Fiscal Cliff Drinking Game.  Every time you hear that phrase you must drink a shot then call your congressman. 

Speaking of, and to, Congress, we’d like to see you go away.  You’re not doing anybody any good.  Make you’re next point of business for this session abandonment.  If you don’t have the decency to put yourself out of work, have the decency not to lie to the American people about the work you’re doing.  The “heroic” first vote to avoid the “fiscal cliff” saved the American worker about 20 cents for every $1,000 he or she makes in salary in what was supposed to be the temporary income tax increase.  It did not address the $2 per $1,000 increase in social security and other federal taxes and fees that will be withheld per month in 2013.  That means about $50 less per paycheck if your one of the average Americans getting paid every other week and if all those paychecks up add to $50,000 by the end of the year.

Finally for the fine men, women, and undecided in Washington please do not use 2013 to tell us how many jobs you’ve created.  Unless you also own a company that employs legal American workers you can’t create any.  Leave creating jobs to the business that actually hire, and pay, employees.  Intern and housekeeper positions don’t count.

Something else we’d like to see go away are all those special parking spaces around stores and restaurants.  We love our elder friends and neighbors.  We’ve often said that anybody over 80 can do whatever they feel like.  By then, they’ve earned it.  (See Entitlement Program, March 29, 2012.)  We’d like to see some of those parking spaces reserved for “Mothers to be and mothers of young children,” and for those picking up dinner to go, and even for those with Handicapped placards, turned into spaces for our Older Friends and Neighbors.  The eighty-somethings who are still driving do it well, and they aren’t the ones cajoling their doctors into signing HP applications for their high blood pressure.  Why should they have to walk 300 feet from the lot to the lobby?   Let’s face it, if you’re just running in for dinner, you can afford to run from a few yards away, or bring one of the kids to run inside while you circle the block.  So you’re a mother of young children.  Being parents of former young children from the days when there were no such preferred spots we can tell you our best shopping trips were those with the kids left at home.  Leave them at home.

Now that we are well into the 21st century, a time of unprecedented public protection against ourselves, we want to see the sale of sleds that cannot be steered or stopped stopped.  You can’t by an extra-large, sugary soft drink in New York City but you can put four 7-year-olds on a plastic sleeve, push them down a hill, and wish them luck knowing at the bottom is a 4 lane roadway separated from the top by a dozen 45 year old oak trees.  You can’t buy a lighter that takes at least three steps to ignite to start your grill for the safety of a child who may not understand that it isn’t a candy stick but you can buy an oversized Frisbee that sets the same child spinning uncontrollably on its downhill voyage over the same tree lined hillside.  We love winter sports.  Sledding, skiing, and skating make January and February bearable.  But let’s do it safely.  Nobody would ever put children on bicycles without brakes or a wheel that steers in April.  Let’s say goodbye to the winter version and stop making children headlines on the evening news.

Do we seem a little cranky today?  We’re sorry.  Usually we are quite upbeat and make the most of what we have.   Sometimes you have to take away to have better.  These are some things we like to see taken away.  Do you have others?  Would you like to see Black Friday not start on Thursday?  Is it time to make the baggage, premium seating, and boarding priority fees go away even if it does mean airfares go up?  Can we stop with gas prices that end in tenths of a cent per gallon?  Let us know.  We can be cranky together.  And then, that can go away too.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Outscored, Not Outclassed

Michael Leave a comment

This week is high school football week number 7 in our part of the world.  Yes, we know.  If you check your calendar that means they started playing football before they started classes.  It’s ok.  Here, high school football (which should be capitalized but we have to draw the line somewhere) is a cross between a religion (please don’t tell the atheists) and life’s greatest lesson learned (please don’t tell the religious).  We suspect “here” is a lot of places across the country.  It’s a strange, strange thing.

We have nothing against organized competitions for high school and younger children.  As long as one can tear oneself away from that crazy notion of “everyone’s a winner” that we try to foist on the youngest ones, any kind of competition is healthy and a necessary part of growing up.  Here they not only tear away the football players from the idea that “everyone’s a winner,” they rip it apart, crush it, stomp on it, burn it, then bury the remains.

Last Friday night we were watching the 11:00 news.  She of We watches so she can be attuned to the happenings of the world.  He of We watches so he can read the football scores across the bottom scroll.  “There’s another, 41-9!  That’s the third 41 to something in single digits this week!  Woah, look at that, 50 to 2!  I bet the coach is going to have something to say about allowing a safety!  17-14? What kind of score is that?  That’s better?  Did you see that one?  64-12!”

Maybe that sounded a little more exuberant than it actually plays out.  What amazes us about scores like that is not that there are so many of them but that there are any of them.  School sports is a place to teach the children about competition and that indeed the world is a place where everyone is not a winner.  But what happened to sportsmanship?  What happened to “win with class, lose with grace?”  For the winning team it’s just another version of “everyone’s a winner” only this version is “you’re always the winner.”  It has the same end results.  We’re creating a world where these young children when they become young adults are unprepared for conflict, discipline, and getting things right because they never had to. (See Your Turn to Keep Score, Jan. 16, 2012.)

In a sound bite world He of We heard the ultimate sound bite about all of this.  In that same news cast with the scroll filled with winning scores in the 40’s and 50’s and the losing scores in single digits was one of 14-3.  The two teams are “perennial powerhouses,” one a twice in a row district champion and on a 23 game winning streak, the other the runner-up for those two years.  The winning coach was interviewed and asked what it was like after five weeks to finally have to make a decision in the fourth quarter? (Arrogance alert #1)  He responded that he knew it would come back to him “when they got to play a good team.” (Arrogance alert #2) 

We hope the players in the five teams previously beat by that “perennial powerhouse” go on to learn that not always being a winner doesn’t always make you a loser.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

 

Baseball, Hotdogs, Apple Pie, and “Batter Up!”

Michael Leave a comment

It’s almost our birthday, that’s our country’s birthday, and we’re still trying to figure out what makes us Americans – the good things, the bad things, and the things no other country wants to admit to doing.

Last weekend we were in a restaurant for a late dinner when a family of Mom, Dad, and four children ages 8 months to 11 years old take the table next to us.  We said it was a late dinner.  For us, 9:00 qualifies as late and that’s what time we were seated.  These folks came about ten minutes after us.  What could these six people ranging in age from “not yet a year” to “should know better” be doing on a Saturday that they hadn’t yet had dinner at that hour?  What else?  Baseball. 

Baseball?  At 9:00.  At night.  Really?  Yep, the oldest child just finished up his weekly baseball game.  We recall when we and ours were of little league age that we had one game at 1:00 and one at 2:00.  It didn’t take long to play Little League baseball then.  Three outs often came on 3 pitches assuming somebody could manage to get the ball anywhere near first base where 3 other defenders had rushed in to back up the first baseman ready for him to miss the throw to first.  The longest play in Little League then was the high pop up when everybody, including the batter, turned to look at the umpire (often somebody from the American Legion league who played on the same field at 4:00) to tell them fair, foul, safe, or out.  And then to explain what to do next.

But today, in the spirit of every one’s a hero, games take hours to play.  There are no outs, you just keep getting up to bat until everybody has had a turn.  There are no runs, you just keep going around the bases to make room for whomever is up next.  There are no strikes, or balls, or foul balls, you just keep throwing until the little snot finally connects with the ball and remembers to run to first base instead of to the bathroom like last week.

This isn’t our first post about the insanity of trying to build a world with no losers.  (See “Your Turn to Keep Score,” Jan. 16, 2012 and “There Is No Crying,” April 26, 2012.)  Somewhere along the course of trying to take the pressure of winning off our children we’ve also taken the joy of winning from them.  We’re also taking the discipline they will need to be productive adults from them. 

When the authors of the Declaration of Independence wrote that “all men are created equal” and that we are endowed by our Creator with those famous unalienable rights of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, they didn’t mean there will never be any losers.  If they did, they would have let King George take one more at-bat.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Baseball, Hotdogs, Apple Pie, and “Aren’t they cute?”

Michael Leave a comment

Summer is a great time to be thinking about how the country is doing.  We’re getting close to the 240th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence and we should be checking up on how we’re doing keeping a country free and a government of, by, and for the people.  (For anybody checking, that anniversary isn’t coming up this July.  It’s still 4 years away but thinking stuff like this can take a while.)  Those few weeks between Flag Day and Independence Day are good days to look about at what’s good, what’s bad, and what’s uniquely American.

Last week we got to see the best and worst of Americans all wrapped up in one convenient incident.  Although it happened earlier, by mid-week it hit the national news.  Four middle schoolers, 11 and12 year olds, decided it was going to be not only a good day to taunt their bus monitor but to record and post it to the Internet for all the world to see.   So they hurled insult after insult, poked and pointed, swore at and about a 68 year old grandmother, former bus driver, and guardian of the good children on the bus.  It wasn’t the first time that they aimed their low sights at her, and it wasn’t the first time that she sat stoically taking it.  It was a horrible example of how miserably some American youth are raised and how much of their disgusting behavior is tolerated.

And then in an amazingly disgusting example of wretched behavior, one of the feeble four decided they should share their offensive conduct with the rest of the world and thus the recording was posted to the Web.   But instead of thousands of viewers sending them accolades for a bullying job well done, hundreds of thousands instead sent sympathy to the abused woman.  Tangible sympathy.  Five hundred thousand dollars worth of sympathy.  A half million ways to say we’re sorry for the incredibly stupid behavior of incredibly stupid children.

Perhaps it was the world’s way of providing one of those auto corrections that our planet does without our knowledge to keep us from hurling into space away from the safety of our solar orbit.  Maybe it’s the first step in the world’s recognition that not all children are cute and impulsive and they don’t mean anything by it.  Maybe somebody is finally realizing that if the parent’s aren’t going to handle their children, if the schools aren’t going to discipline the children, and if the police aren’t going to punish the children, that at least someone is going to see that the victims will be compensated for being a bully’s target.

Maybe the most disturbing part of the week’s news was that now that the children have been exposed and have even attempted too little too late apologies there are some who are upset that others are expressing their dismay at the miscreants’ behavior.  Again, in a remarkable worldly auto correction, the bullies have become the targets.  Even targets of death threats.  Don’t worry kids.  Those old people saying you should be expelled, fined, imprisoned, or maybe even executed are just so cute, but a little impulsive, and they don’t really mean it.  Maybe.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

Just Causes Just Because

Michael Leave a comment

About this time of year the local newspapers run a story or two about a young citizen making like a mature adult as he or she completes a senior project and raises a few dollars for a local charity.  Such is the case of a teen local to us who raised about $1500 for the Save Darfur effort, joining millions since 2003 who have poured millions of dollars into the lobbying effort to solicit U.S. intervention.

So it was a pleasant morning when She of We read about a local college student joining the Push America’s Journey of Hope effort to raise $600,000 for Americans with disabilities and He of We read an article about a sixteen year old high school sophomore starting her own effort to raise $8,000 for a local homeless shelter. 

What makes these pleasant?  These kids had no program to make, no project to complete, and knew of what they were getting into.  It’s possible that a high school senior knows about the atrocities of Darfur.  Plug in a liberal social studies teacher and it’s even probable.  It’s equally possible that a high school senior knows the money doesn’t go to on the ground efforts in Darfur but to professional lobbyists in Washington to try to convince Congress to provide support from the national coffers.  But for a high school sophomore to just decide to ask her fellow studies for money for a homeless shelter that’s a good dozen miles from her suburban home “just because” is quite remarkable.  Equally remarkable is for a young man to take an entire summer off from gainful employment or youthful enjoyment to ride a bicycle across the country to raise money for disabled Americans a mile at a time.

Giving money, time, and energy is nothing new for the young.  Often it’s because of their energy and time that youthful philanthropy can far outraise established charities.  For example, Penn State University’s annual Thon dance marathon, the largest student run philanthropy in the world, raised over $10.5 million dollars this year for research to combat pediatric cancer.

Whether measured in millions, the hundreds of thousands, or the thousands of dollars a quarter at a time, these children and young adults show they have the maturity that is missing in so much “professional” fundraising efforts of good cause from fighting genocide to rebuilding from natural disasters.  The problem with professional philanthropy like Safe Darfur, Katrina Fundraising, and Tsunami Relief Organization is that so much of the effort has been built around the administration of the money raised that a lot goes to the professionals and a little to the philanthropy.

It seems that the fundraisers that ask for a quarter at a time make more of that money, if not all of that money go to the people whose pictures are on the donation cans.  Maybe the professionals should step aside and like the young people take over.  They’re going to eventually.  Let them start helping those who really need our help. 

Maybe then we’ll have something more interesting for them to take over.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Spring Chickens vs The Codger

Michael Leave a comment

With age comes wisdom.  And a bunch of people who don’t care.  We’re sorry, did that seem harsh?  Get used to it because the older you get the harsher reality becomes.

Neither of We is anymore what a spring chicken strives to be, but then Neither of We is at the codger level.  He of We is 5 or 6 years ahead of She of We and he might be starting to see it more.

See, back about 25 years ago He of We was a pretty good looking fellow.  Lots of hair, firm chin (with a dimple), clear eyes, and a dashing figure proclaiming him to be quite in shape.  Today he’s a bit puffy around the face and neck, lots of skin on top of his head, a figure that begs to cry out “but round is a shape.” Back then he didn’t know much more than what he learned in school and everybody knows that’s only 10% of everything anybody needs to know to be successful.  But he routinely was looked to for advice and confirmation and became that person who people listened to when E. F. Hutton wasn’t available. 

Over those 25 years he’s seen lots more of the stuff that makes him quite an invaluable asset to his employer.  Except now that he has the knowledge and wisdom that experience brought, nobody wants to listen to him.  They are all flocking around the new guy with the shirt collar that can be buttoned.

It’s probably not like that in the animal kingdom.  The dogs still follow the alpha male and it’s still the older birds that rule the roosts.  Probably in organized crime and the legal profession a little age and experience are also sought after attributes.  You can’t know a good loophole until you’ve been in one.  And maybe if you’re a dentist you never really want to turn your back on other dentists that have discovered how to keep the patient from biting and still cheerfully fork over outrageously high co-pays.

But by and large, it’s not what’s in your head that people look for at the weekly managers’ meetings.  It’s how that head looks that moves the body to the middle seat at the conference table.  If youth is wasted on the young, then experience is a mockery to the experienced.  But there is a way around this so what one learns in life isn’t wasted and what the men and women beginning their lives can learn without admitting they don’t know everything. 

Ooops, sorry.  Time for our naps.  We’ll get back to you with that at our next meeting.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?