November 25, 2008
It happens to us all
Originally published December 23, 2005
I feel his pain. Or maybe I feel his Shock and Awe, which may be a better way to describe the realization that you are no longer a young whippersnapper--- you have become an OLD FART.
That realization hit me several years ago, when I was stopped at a traffic light. A car filled with teeny-bop-looking boys pulled up in the lane next to me. The car was rocking, thumping out some kind of rap-type abomination music and every one of the little turds inside was wearing a baseball cap turned around backward.
I thought to myself, "If ever catch one of MY children listening to that shit and wearing a cap backward like that, I'll slap the living shit out of 'em for acting the dumbass." Right then, it hit me: I had become my father.
I was a teenager in the late '60s. My father had no use at all for the music I liked in those days, which just convinced me that he was hopelessly square, uncool and outdated. When I started college and grew hair down to my shoulders and sported a Fu Manchu moustache, he threatened to disown me. He thought a "joint" was a low-class bar. He just didn't dig my scene at all.
He was an Old Fart. I swore that I would NEVER be that way when I grew older. He was judgmental and out-of-touch. I would forever be a cool dude.
Now I know how he felt back then. I like very little of today's music. I abhor facial piercings. I think baggy pants worn with 6" of boxer shorts showing above the waist are disgusting. A cap has a brim to shade the sun out of your eyes, not to keep the rain from hitting the back of your neck. I believe that most of the younger generation is ALL fucked-up.
Dad, wherever you are, I now feel the pain you once experienced. I am no longer a cool dude. I am judgmental and out-of-touch. My hair turned gray silver and it's a lot thinner than it once was. I even wear Old Spice after-shave, the way you always did.
I am an Old Fart.
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