Believe it or not, they are what (who) keeps me relatively sane an awful lot of the time. Several of the students that I like with two or more “reallys” (and who I think are particularly well suited for the job) end up being recruited (AFTER finishing my class) into the Babysitting Brigade. At any point in time, there are likely to be 7-8 of these individuals on campus who are just a text message away from being called into service. It’s kinda like the National Guard, I guess. Y’know, they’re getting paid to pretend to be Moms, but they don’t usually get shot at. Anyway, my kids adore them, they are great role models (the babysitters, not my kids), and they give Paige and me the opportunity to get away from the house and pretend NOT to be adults every once in a while. As a result, they basically are my favorite people ever.
One of the most endearing / amusing things about these people (and my students in general, babysitters or no) is their willingness to be totally frank with me ... about absolutely anything. So today, I got a message from a former student / member of the Babysitting Brigade / person with at least five or six (possibly more) “reallys” associated with her cool factor that read ...
*****
Hey,
So I have a question: Where do old people in this town go? And when I say “old people” I’m asking about people as old or older than you. :) What do they do? I need to find out how to best market to these people but as of now I don’t know what these country type townies do LOL.
*****
I’ve omitted the specific context of the note to protect the innocent (or guilty, as it were), so if you’re here at A&M just be suspicious of every PPA student you know ... particularly if she gets giggly when you mention Chuck Bass.
Why on earth do I remember these things? Good grief ...
Anyway, in response, I typed the following message to her:
*****
Dear Young Whippersnapper,
Unless I am misremembering, this is the second time you've asked me a question of this nature during our brief, but certainly illustrious, relationship. (Editor’s Note: This is a true statement.)
First, Paige said to tell you that we stay home and count our wrinkles.
Second, I have very, very few friends my own age in "this town" or any other, so I can't really speak for the broad population. Paige and I go out once a week, whenever possible. When we go out, we go to dinner and a movie and then pretty much come straight home so that the babysitter du jour can get on with her life and go have a good time being young and all that. Sometimes, if we have enough time between dinner and the movie, we'll (gasp) go to a coffee shop or something ... but if we push it too far, we'll invariably have to pull out the supplementary oxygen and maybe even stop off at Walgreen's for a free blood pressure check en route to the theater. Being reminded of one’s mortality tends to put a damper on the evening, though, so usually we just play it safe, head over to the theater a little early, and sit down to enjoy some fresh air and talk about how expensive things have gotten and how there was too much food at the restaurant and how we could very easily have gotten one entree and split it between us thank you very much and wow wasn’t that crossword puzzle in today’s paper difficult (it’s Friday, you know, and they do get harder as the week goes on) ... and my goodness can you believe how short that young lady’s skirt is (if you could even call it that).
Y’know, standard old people talk.
In a perfect (or at least vastly improved) world, I would live in College Station during the week and Tucson or Seattle or Paris on the weekends. Obviously I love live music (there is none here, clearly, but we go to Austin / Houston / Dallas when we can), I like ballet / theatre (ditto), etc. ... but my students happen to be in College Station. So there you have it.
I suspect that if you were to pose the same question to a random sampling of people in this town who have somehow managed to defy the Grim Reaper for as long as I have, the typical response would be something along the lines of ... "we do stuff with (translated, “for”) our kids ... and then if there's time and we have any energy left, we do laundry". Hadley plays competitive soccer, which occupies 20+ weekends during the year in some form or fashion ... and she's just one person (technically). The other parents of the girls on her soccer team have multiple kids, all of whom are involved in a lot more stuff than ours are. That, combined with the fact that -- 20 years down the line -- I’m still crazy about her, means that Paige and I "date" WAAAAAY more than anyone I know who is anywhere near our age.
Bottom line?
Getting old blows.
As I've told you, personally, since your accounting “misgivings” on Class Day #1 -- do what you want to do (not what people tell you that you SHOULD do) ... travel (maybe even be ... I dunno ... a travel writer?? Editor’s Note: inside joke) ... and have fun (responsibly). Once you have kids, things are different.
Very.
Not BAD. Not even worse. They’re dead cool in a whole different way. But they’re different.
Honestly, I wouldn't trade places with ANYONE that I know ("old" or not). But it's most definitely not like being 22. At least not the version of 22 that I remember.
:)
Sincerely,
Geezer
No comments:
Post a Comment