I want to be a curmudgeon. I’m the right age. I’ve paid my dues. I’ve earned the right. Problem is, I’m having a hard time doing it. I want to be able to yell at kids to “GET OFF MY LAWN!” You know, traditional curmudgeon stuff. Unfortunately for me, I can’t do that. I live in the middle of the woods.
The nearest kids are at least a mile or so away. In over 20 years not one Trick-or-Treater has come to our door on Halloween. And who wants to walk over a mile just to play on some stranger’s lawn? And if they did, why would that bother me? I mean if they were blowing up my lawn, or stealing my lawn I’d be pretty pissed.
But just playing? What’s your problem?
That never stopped my Grandpa. He loved yelling at kids. I think he looked at it as sort of a sport.
The problem I’m having with being a curmudgeon is that I’m too tolerant. I think it’s a generational thing. Us baby boomers are a lot more tolerant than our parent’s generation. We let our kids get away with stuff our parents wouldn’t put up with. This has made some things tougher for our kids. For instance, pissing off their parents.
It’s a kid’s job, especially in their teen years, to piss off their parents. It’s a rite of passage. Part of growing up. In my day, it was ridiculously easy. All I had to do was grow my hair long. And by long, I mean as long as the Beatles. The early Beatles.
Long hair was responsible for every evil and ill in the world. Crime, Communism, the canceling of the Lawrence Welk show, etc.
But our generation is way more tolerant. Kids today have to really work to piss us off. A while back I was in a shopping mall when I saw a group of teenagers walking by. One was wearing what I think is called a “side mullet”. One half of his head was completely shaved and the other half was a mullet. Yes, a mullet, the hairstyle of the Gods.
He was wearing a studded dog collar around his neck. He had pierced ears, a pierced nose, he had one pants leg rolled up above his knee and he was wearing his underwear on the outside of his pants. All I could think was, Wow. That poor kid. Look how far he had to go before his parents finally went: “That’s it! Your grounded!”
And here’s another thing. That kid got up that morning, got dressed like that and looked in the mirror and thought to himself “Yeah, that’s cool. I’m rocking this look.”
Which brings me to the flip side of this equation. While it’s a kid’s job to piss off his parents, it’s also a parent’s job to embarrass the hell out of their kids. Mostly when they are teenagers. Here, the advantage goes to the parents. The best my parents could do was to show naked baby pictures of me to my prom date. Embarrassing? Not really. Today? I’m sure the parents of that kid I saw in the mall have a Pinterest account devoted just to him. It will live in the cloud forever and will pop up at every family gathering for the rest of his life. And what the hell will his kids have to do?
What does any of this have to do with me wanting to be a curmudgeon? Nothing much, other than it makes me realize that all the traditional things I should be yelling at just makes me laugh.
So, I guess I’m out of luck.
Oh wait, there’s always Trump.