Heading to the graduation of my younger niece, I was selected for chauffeur duty for my Dad, Stepmom and older niece (the Avalon being a fine, large car that outclasses my Dad’s Cadillac – don’t ask me, ask him!).
My older niece piled into the passenger seat up front and we proceeded to have our typically bizarro conversation, ranging far and wide with little transition from subject to subject. This drove my Stepmom crazy, but that’s the danger of putting a still-young young person nearby a still-immature old person.
Part of her rambling discourse was about her and her friends going to see the movie Prometheus at a midnight premiere. I commented that midnight is just too late for me to go see a movie. Less than a second after those words left my mouth, I was floored by the embarrassing revelation that statement suggested. Fortunately, I kept it together well enough to drive us there and back without incident.
Still, the damage was done. That no one in the car picked up on it was irrelevant. I had officially surrendered my youth. I was now an official card-carrying member of fogey-dom. What else could you call a man who says a midnight movie is “too late”?
I realized I was now (and forever) relegated to starting sentences with “in my youth” and “when I was young”, both of which are declarative admissions of my increasing age. Surely phrases like “back in my day” and “kids today…” are certain to be arriving shortly.
What’s next? Dining before 5:00 pm? Asking young people to “keep it down”? Watching only CBS programs? I shudder at the thought that it’s all downhill for me now (though with special sneakers and a cane, I should be able to navigate).
Is there any hope to squeeze a few more years of “youthful” joy before succumbing to inevitability? Perhaps I should go to a midnight movie. I think I’ll check out the listings and see what’s playing.
Right after my nap.