I was listening to a cookie-cutter adult contempory station earlier tonight, moseying along at about 5 under the speed limit for once, when the dj proudly announced that the next song would be “a classic from 1989.” I heard myself say, off-the-cuff, “Hmm, I was ten years old then.” That got me. It was “Angel Eyes” by John Hiatt. Decent song, but my mind was somewhere else. Is this how it begins? I’m almost 23 and I can feel the invincibility already beginning to dim, thinking about the birthday parties I went to all those years ago, fifth grade with Miss Rogers (who I had a crush on, but wouldn’t admit it even to myself), model rockets and neighborhood soccer, tree forts and sugar-scoop headlights, watching the cartoon “Mask” in the den under an umbrella to keep the glare off the tv, turning the handle on the pasta maker that would ooze out fresh spaghetti after you fed it the right concoction of dough, train sets at Christmastime, and Legos, Legos, always Legos… I don’t want to forget these things. I think one of the major points of conflict between generations occurs not when children don’t submit to their parents’ authority (though that’s important), but when parents don’t take a moment, a long moment, to remember the emotions that accompanied ages within themselves at children. Every year was a different era; every birthday felt different. I resolve to be the one to bridge the gap with my future children, to remember how easily I came by joy and sadness at their age, when there were no layers to protect me against the world except my parents. My only new years’ resolution so far. Hmm.
matt? i was trying to call you earlier and it was busy.
where are you now?
:o(
i’ll try again later.
(i love internet cafes)
hmm….i don’t think that’s how it begins. well…maybe. not quite sure. all i know is that i do the same. EEEEEK!! what if i’m growing up also. Noooo. i shall escape to never never land. I know my mind does tend to drift alot.