Recently I found myself very much engaged in a spirited conversation with my thirteen year old grandson.  I don’t know why, common sense would dictate that I would be better off minding my own business, but never the less, there we were.  Both of us locked into our ritual of trying to find some common ground, but hopelessly out of sync with each other.

Been There.  Done That.  Got The Headache.

Some of us born before color television, penicillin, polio shots, frozen food, Xerox (who incidentally never has anything original to say), contact lenses, Frisbee’s and the pill, kind of resent all of this new stuff being shoved down our throats.  Another thing that kind of rankles me, is being told that “I am old hat.”

That kind of irritates me to no end.

So I will now share some of my free adolescent language lesson (this time) which consisted of a few things I was blissfully unaware of until this pimply-faced offspring of our first born, arrived on the scene.  First, you cannot say “cool” it appears to be out.  You are not cool, if you say you are cool, got it? This has changed to “spanky.”  You are spanky.  Sounds like something reserved for a bottle of wine, a dark bedroom and a Friday night to me (batteries optional), but I just nodded my head and moved on.

Often I just nod my head and reply, “I understand.”  (He doesn’t have a clue and this works over and over, without fail.  I understand.)  He will leave me alone … which is often … just fine with me.

So if you by chance, give the local basketball coach a problem, and “trigger him” as I understand it, this is really “disrespecting him” what should be referred to as “dissing” the coach and you can expect him to go ballistic.  Which used to be really pi**sed off or mad.  Now days that doesn’t seem to come close at all.  You get mad, you are now an employee of the U.S. Postal Service according to the younger set.  “I mean the guy went postal grandpa.  He really did.”

Now my generation they called that “disgruntled.”

I have met some pretty messed up people in my lifetime, and I have seen people go off the deep end of the pool, but I have NEVER met anyone who was disgruntled that I know of.  Think about it, when is the last time the doctor asked you “have you been normal lately or a bit disgruntled?”  I mean, does anyone actually know what the meaning of the word might be?

All this might be some of that “change” that Mr. Obama is talking about.

A few of us remember a time when there were no cops with radar, no limit credit cards, split atoms (or Quarks for that matter), laser beams, ballpoint pens, panty hose, dishwashers, clothes dryers, electric blankets, air conditioning, drip-dry clothes, wrinkle free pants, and man had not walked on the moon.

So much change anymore that it is virtually cluttering up the empty space between my ears, something my father would have testified to as “literally impossible.”  I must have slowly, seemingly overnight, according to my grandson, turned into some kind of prehistoric social dinosaur.

A modern day fossil.

And I guess he is right to a certain extent.  I am the generation that came from a society that believed closets were for the storing of clothing, not coming out of.  Bunnies were those little furry things that you gave your kids on Easter and were not found in the page of a magazine.  Having a meaningful relationship basically meant that you get along with the rest of your cousins during the holidays.

What else?

Fast food was something you ate during Lent, and outer space was the back of the drive-in.  There were no house-husbands, gay rights, computer dating, dual careers, and computer marriages.  No daycare centers, group therapy, or nursing homes, or as they are affectionately known today, “Assisted Living Centers.”.  No FM Radio, No Howard, No Rush, No Hannity & Combs.  CD’s, tape decks, electric typewriters, artificial hearts, lifestyle-same-sex-partners, significant others, word processors, yogurt and guys wearing ear rings.  Time-sharing meant togetherness, a drive by was a cruise down Main Street, and a chip meant a piece of wood, hardware meant exactly that … hardware.

Software wasn’t even a word, in Silicone Valley or anywhere else for that matter.

Made in Japan back then meant it was “junk.”  Making out was finding a good job or getting a passing exam in Mrs. McGee’s English class.  Pizzas, McDonalds, and instant coffee, were kind of basically unheard of.  A five and ten cent store, sold stuff, for five and ten cents.  Ice Cream cones cost under a quarter, a movie was six bits.  A Chevy from the dealer cost about $600-$800 fully loaded but unfortunately, most of us didn’t have the money to purchase it.  Which was a real pity, because gasoline was only 15 cents per gallon then.

Times have changed

• Smoking was fashionable
• Grass was mowed
• Coke was a cold drink on a hot day
• Pot was something Grandma or Mom cooked in
• Rock Music was a grandma’s lullaby
• Aids were student helpers in the principles office
• Ecstasy was fogged over windows in the back row of the finger bowl (you figure it out)

Sex, the one constant that remained the same, was discovered by most of us, surely before a sex change operation.  We made do with what we had, and most of the time, were happy to have that.  We were for the most part … The dumb generation that had to have a husband/wife before we got married in order to have a baby.

My grandson asked me one time, “Why is it that your generation is so resilient Grandpa.  What makes you guys so tough?” And I mulled it over in my mind a little, smiled my quirky smile and I said, “I think it was all that Dinosaur hunting we did as kids, I mean jeeze, the decoy weighed almost three tons.  That is a lot of crap to drag around all day long.”

Now I ask you …. Wasn’t that spanky?

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