No one seems to talk about a generation gap anymore. Generations – Gen-Xers, Twenty Somethings, Boomers, Gen-Y, etc. – appear content to stay confined within the walls built by their age group. Maybe its just me, but I don’t see free and easy cross-generation mingling. Kids – anyone under 35 – won’t have much to do with those of us who are gray, balding, and rounder by the year. When the older set (me) is around, the young crowd stands stone-faced and un-speaking in elevators, passes us silently in hallways, sits away from us at lunch. The gap is hardly static or rigid. It’s width fluctuates based on circumstance and willingness to close the distance. For all we know and in the absence of generation-busting give-and-take, anyone younger than me might well view us matures as standoffish and gap nurturers.
Perhaps it is instead a technology gap, them tethered to their hand helds, us more comfortable with in-person conversation.
Yet the gap lives and I’m certain it exists within families. How we ought to narrow the gap is anyone’s guess. Like all wars, victory is won in small, incremental battles. My battles to keep relevant with my two are waged weekly. The weapons at my disposal are what you see here a few times a week plus whatever time I’m granted on the phone. Emails? Those remain sheathed.
So I’ll keeping chipping away and try to nickle-and-dime it to death. I feel the presence of the gap some days more than others. Then again maybe its just me.
Wayback Wednesday. Today we go kinda way back. Five or six years ought to do it.
Well, summer is here. Just last week it was cool, now it’s near 90 with more to come. We’ll take it, however, as winter will come soon enough.
Reid has surprised us by literally bouncing out of bed at 6:30 every morning to head off to work in grubby jeans, inside out (?) t-shirts, and dusty work boots. He sure likes the cash, and by gosh he’s been saving a fair portion of it, too. One of the good sides is that he doesn’t stay out during the week nearly as late. Most nights, he’s here by midnight, although he crashes after work and snoozes pretty hard.
We’re catching ourselves with post-Scooter moments. When I get up, I think ‘oh, better let the dog out.’ Or, ‘better feed the dog’. We’ve got his picture and collar (with tags) prominently displayed. People have been sad to hear of his passing. Your mom says we see him up in the puffy white clouds.
Grandma and Grandpa headed for Sundance, Wyoming this morning. They’ll go through the old route via the Sand Hills of Nebraska. Grandpa wants to take a pilgrimage of sorts. He probably won’t get up there again.
Actually, they’re taking the same highway Bob ____________ and I took last Friday up to Ft. Robinson. It was a wet trip but still fun. We both just love the Sand Hills. No better ride on a beautiful day as far as we were concerned. We had one ticklish moment Saturday morning in the rain. Bob’s BMW bike almost didn’t start, and we were literally hundreds of miles from the nearest BMW dealership. I’m not sure what we would’ve done. Saw antelopes and deer and a few turtles. Saturday morning was 170 miles of solid rain. My face felt exfoliated from the stinging raindrops. We stayed with Ralph and Gayle Saturday night. Ralph was the same as usual: talk and tell jokes. He’s glad you’re doing well.
The countdown is on to Nonnie’s move. She’s just paralyzed with fear and angst. That drives Nancy and your mom nuts. Lots of TLC needed on this one. You can guess who will do the heavy lifting.
So, the mushroom goes into the bar and says ‘bar keeper, give me a beer.’ To which the bar keep says ‘we don’t serve your kind here.’ ‘Why not?’ replied the mushroom. ‘I’m a fun-gi.’ Get it?
That’s the best I can do. Let me know how things are going and what your schedule is. Toodle-ooh.