THAT AGE!

You know THAT AGE. When you realize you’re turning into one of your parents (or worse… some weird parental-hybrid!); when you start to understand all those things your grandmother told you about time moving too fast are actually true; when you realize that you’re no longer one of THEM, but one of them; when you start listening to the oldies station and remember dancing to the songs at your high school prom; when “the kids today” are a little too loud or wear funny clothes; when the music just isn’t what it used to be; when “those damn kids” just don’t understand.

You know…THAT AGE.

You must understand that this is hard for me. See, I’ve spent most of my life feeling younger than I am. Hey, I read comic books, collect action figures (which I take OUT of the box, because toys are meant to be played with!), watch cartoons and can talk about some modern musicians. I’m usually the cool uncle. Most days, I don’t feel 38. I’m like a big kid in an oversized (no comments!) body.

But then… I have to go to class.

Now, I’ve done the college thing as an adult. It’s nothing new to me. But to take day classes now. To be lumped in with the 18, 19, 20 year olds. Lord…give me strength.

True story: The day after Patrick Swayze died, a few people in my Design I class were talking about him. One girl said she didn’t know who he was and was asked if she had ever seen the movie Dirty Dancing. In a casual, valley girl voice, she responded, “No. I don’t like old movies.”

Dirty Dancing. An OLD movie!

I was completely filled with righteous indignation and was ready to trample on this girls comments when the thought struck. Dirty Dancing is a 22 year old movie. Twenty-two freaking years! I quickly did the math. Let’s see…she’s probably 19. That means I was 19 end of 1989, most of 1990, so 22 years would be…1967? 1968? Now that’s old. That’s like…41 years ago. 1987? Please! That was yesterday! Like it was all that long ago. I mean really…1987…22 years ago…

Shit. I’m THAT AGE.

I was in high school when the movie todays kids consider “old” were being made. My favorite music is from artists that a whole generation doesn’t know the name of. Hell, what I consider the most classic comic books of all times are, for the most part, done by writers whose names would mean nothing to the latest batch of “there’s not enough blood and guts in (Superman, Batman, Spider-man…fill in the blank here!).

THAT AGE!

There’s a certain karmic retribution at play here. I can vividly remember teasing my parents about their age. Making fun of the music they listened to as ‘ancient rock’. Laughing when the reminisced about the “good old days”. Hell, I can remember trying to plan faux funerals for their respective 40th birthday parties…and laughing the whole time.

40 is 14 months away. Dirty Dancing is an old movie. Ask anyone under 20 who Roxette, Aha or Animotion is. Who’s laughing now?

Yep…THAT AGE.

But that’s okay. I realize now, why my folks never got too mad; why the always had a knowing smile for everyone of those jokes.

One day, these kids will hit THAT AGE. They’ll know what it means to realize that one day they’ll wake up, still floundering to figure out what we want to be when they grow up, only to find out that they all ready did. They’ll realize that it’s happened…it’s here, this whole “adulthood” thing. One day, someone will say, “No, I’ve never seen High School Musical cause…heheh…I don’t like old movies” and make them cringe.

And suddenly a whole new generation will realize that they are THAT AGE.

So, for now, I’ll accept that I’m THAT AGE. And I’ll be okay with it. Because one day, THAT AGE will be someone else’s cross to bear.

And then I can enjoy being a crotchety old man who just loves being that age.