Ageing

Larry’s Lollygaggings

Volume 2, Number 1

21 January 2009

Just thinking about…Ageing.

If you think writing a blog about age is difficult, you should only know how long I had to stare at the word ‘ageing’ to figure out if it was spelled with the ‘e’ or not. I’m still not sure which is right, so I just went for the extra letter…hey, it’s free!

Anyway, I am currently on a plane. This is seemingly the only time when I have enough of a stretch of uninterrupted peace to write a blog.

I am finishing spending a few days away with my oldest son, Sam, and his friend, Max. They are great kids. Smart. Respectful. Intelligent. Oh, and fourteen years old.

This trip taught me a few things that I either never learned, didn’t realize, or failed to experience when I was that age. Some things are so strange that I may have to go check the replay of my life to see if I ever WAS 14!

For example, what did I ever do without text messaging? I can only assume that I had to converse with the people around me. There were a number of times where one of the boys would tell the other to read the message that he JUST SENT TO THE OTHER!!! I am amazed even reading that! I am now intimately familiar with the crown of their heads from looking at them looking down all day. I guess this is what Andre’ The Giant felt like. (I notice I use a lot of wrestler references in my blogs…what’s up with that?) Oh, yeah, in 1980 at 14, we wrote notes and then waited six class periods to pass them to our girlfriend. Most of my relationships didn’t last a full six periods. Oh, well. I think I still have all the old notes.

Regarding ages…I am not sure at what age males become aware that there is such a thing as a floor mat and it should be laid down OUTSIDE the shower to be stepped on while drying off, but apparently it is older than fourteen.

Likewise, I learned that the age at which we y-chromosomed Cretans learn how desirable Brazilian women are is less than 14. After the boys got a glimpse of the Rio Teenie-Bopper Crowd, they followed them around with more interest than Brad and Angelina at an African orphanage. I kept wondering if either they got the Evelyn Woods/Portugese Version of Rosetta Stone sent by FedEx, or there was some type of universally understood language called grunting. While these girls were probably thinking “what the heck are they saying” in Portugese while the boys were thinking” what the heck are they saying” in English. On top of that, they thought they had scored an immense international coup after getting a smile and an illegible email address. I guess they can always text them a smiley face emoticon thingie.

I wonder why is it that now that I am twice as old as when I was first legal to drink, I have to drink half as much to get the same results?

Another thing. At some age, men stop listening. To everyone and everything. Just stop. I don’t know when. I don’t know why. And this is not random. We don’t listen to our wives, our kids, our friends, the waitress, the safety talk on the plane, the toll-taker, the boss, the TV, the movies. Come on! How ridiculous is it that we are AT A MOVIE and have to ask our wives what the character just said? There is nothing else going on there! No microwave timer going off, no dog asking to be walked, no doorbell ringing. Just listen, will you guys?!? As a gender, there is some age where we males have the collective attention span of a gnat. I guess I’ll ask my wise old dad if how I’m acting at my age is ridiculous. But he probably won’t pay attention.

This is kind of like my favorite Winnie-the-Pooh scenario where our humble bear is awoken by Rabbit after snoozing during an instructional speech. He tells Rabbit that he couldn’t hear the whole talk because he got fluff in his ear and asks if Rabbit could repeat himself. “From what point?” asks Rabbit. “Well, from the point that the fluff got stuck in my ear, of course”, replies Pooh.

That proves that Pooh is a male. I’m just not sure how old.

Huh?

I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?

Just thinking.