The Arabs believed that your horse’s life should be divided into three phases; the first seven years in training, the second seven years will be the horse’s prime and most productive years and the last seven years you should lend your horse to an enemy or someone you don’t like.
I believe that a human life can likewise be divided into three segments only instead of seven years the human life can be divided into three 25 year fragments. During the first 25 years youngsters have lots of exuberance and good ideas but they have little experience in the ways of the world, so they spend most of their time in school. In training, if you will. When they do finally leave home and attempt to advance in the world they are held down by stodgy old bosses who fear for their jobs.
The second 25 years are the prime working years when a person should have equal portions of exuberance and experience. This is the human’s sweet spot. Finally, in the last 25 years, when senior citizens have oodles of experience, but little energy, they spend their days going to garage sales, doctor appointments and napping. Lots of napping. There will always be, and always has been, a tug of war played out between the younger demographic and the older one.
Back in my day the oldsters never had the slightest idea what was in the hearts and minds of my generation, whose sole purpose in life was getting under the skin of the old fogies. We lived our lives trying to come up with ways to irritate them. My generation grew their hair long, listened to psychedelic music, used drugs, wore colorful bell bottom pants, went to Woodstock to have sex in the mud and escaped to Canada to avoid the draft.
We sat with the old folks on the couch to watch The Wonderful World of Disney where never a cuss word was uttered nor a breast laid bare. Then our parents and grandparents were shocked out of their long johns when on the Ed Sullivan show Elvis “The Pelvis” Presley did things never before seen on television. As if that wasn’t bad enough old Ed next brought the Beatles to America’s attention with their long hair and wild ways.
Now days the youngsters get under my generation’s skin by turning their bodies into fleshy canvasses for tattoo artists, getting studs in their tongues, rings in their nostrils and other metallic hardware installed in unmentionable places. For gosh sakes, they have more ear ornamentation than a common cow.
The youngsters befuddle people my age by listening to rap music with four letter words, constantly expanding their digitable and downloadable world by playing on their cell phone, riding their skateboards on the sidewalk and using the word “awesome” in every sentence, like you know? They too experiment with illegal dangerous drugs while the oldsters at least have prescriptions for theirs. And what is this fetish the young people have for guns? When I was their age the only Colt 45 kids wanted to get their hands on was a brand of beer known for its potency. (If you could drink a six pack you were a real stud!)
In my day we at least pulled our pants up. Now days it seems there is a competition to see how low they can go without having their pants fall off entirely. I have no idea how some of these kids keep their pants up. I just know they’re doing it to irritate us.
In my day we at least had paper routes and lawns to mow while today’s urban killers of their father’s dreams avoid work like it was the plague and they keep coming back home like the sparrows to San Juan Capistrano.
To complicate matters now we have old guys who refuse to act their age by gathering up what little hair they have left into a pony tail. Such a man is a traitor to our cause. As for me, I’m going to hire a mercenary to fight this generational guerrilla war for me because honestly, I just don’t have the energy to fight this un-winnable skirmish. I say un-winnable because by the time a man realizes his father was right, he has a son who thinks he’s wrong.
