Time Passages

It helps the daily jungle gym of life to be realistic about the status quo, I find.  I can dream always and forever, I can plan, aware of the stakes.  I can walk down the street listening to the theme from Black Caesar and envision myself in another time and surrounding.  (Tip: Keep this in mind when you meet someone where delusion reigns supreme, and you’ll find out just how well adjusted you live.)

So I suppose I am an adult, yes?  My responsibilities are now categorized as such and typical for someone my age.  I feel youthful, but that’s about all it is: a feeling.   I can be on a roll of comedic material with new, younger employees, and then make a fatal fuck-up: a reference before their time.  History, Pop Culture History, an old athlete…makes no difference:

“What?  Oh…was that in the 80’s?”

Yes it was…but come on, I know about shit from before I was…aw, forget it.  The joke isn't on them – it’s on me.  So, I guess I’m old.

Then I have lunch with a retired dealmaker who is telling of current life.  “She wanted me to make dinner!”  Is this an unacceptable request?  “Yes!  That’s how it works.  I mean, I go the butcher, you know, but she does the shopping, the cooking.  Sometimes I’ll clean the wine glasses, because those are done by hand.”  Mighty thoughtful of you, I suppose.  Is my situation the same?  No, it’s not.  I don’t mind doing some of the work, as long as—

I was interrupted (politely) and told the game plan from another generation.

“Look, Trip, you know what I told her?  I said ‘I can find plenty of women in the county who would like to cook me dinner, OK?  And I don’t have to set the table or any of that bullshit.’ ”  You don’t have to do anything?  That’s a pretty good life.   And I think if I tried to find a lady my age or younger who’d do exactly this request, I would probably get a zonk in my chops.  So, I guess I’m young. 

The pendulum of life always swings, but it is a mighty leaden tool…and it feels like it’s just hangin’ there; a giant disco medallion, stuck in fur.