Walmart is a hidden treasure of stories of life. It seems that every time we shop there are small dramas unfolding around us in micro-lessons. The other day was no exception.
As HHH and I hurried into the store, hand in hand and discussing our gardening, a young man walked just behind us singing a song of woe to his mother. His loud words carried and stopped our conversation.
“24 sucks, MOM. It sucks. I’m tired of everything that comes with 24. It’s not fair.”
HHH and I, both smiling by that time, had to interject ourselves into their conversation. Here was a healthy, handsome young man with the world at his fingertips. Life was too much at level 24. With his world starting to unfold, already, it was more than he could deal with. Overwhelmed. At 24.
“Try 70,” HHH quipped.
“Well, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat. Your generation lived dreams that I can’t even begin to understand. You guys lived in the perfect time.”
How true. What an observant young man.
We were lucky enough to live in a golden age. Those a little older than us, even more so. By 24, I was the mom of a little boy. I owned my second house and a new car. I wasn’t working outside the home, but was proud to be a HOME MAKER. Weekends were spent with family and friends relaxing and life was truly beautiful.
If we wanted to camp, we got out the tent and went camping. We could afford to eat at nice restaurants once in a while. The air was cleaner back then. Gas was cheap. Life was good. We looked forward sending our kids to school where they would learn about reading, writing, and arithmetic, while enjoying normal activities after school.
During our childhood, nobody rode their bike with a helmet. We all suffered through skinned knees and normal bumps and bruises. If we misbehaved at school, we’d get twice the trouble once we went home. Our teachers were called “Sir” and “Ma’am”, as were our neighbors. Many days, we were seen but not heard. Both HHH and I grew up feral without helicopter parents monitoring our every move.
This young man had valid points. To be 24 in this day and age must be terrifying. The difference is that when we were 24, we just took off and lived. Most of my friends struck out on their own at 18. Now days, that would be difficult to do. With sky high rent, gas and food prices, it just isn’t possible anymore.
Of course, as an old crone, I would find a way to make things work if I were 24 again. A certain resourcefulness has been lost through the years. And, I was not nearly as resourceful as my parents, who at 22 faced a world war while they tended to a Japanese pig farm in the absence of the real farmers relocated to Manzanar.
And their parents were even more resilient, traveling through Ellis Island from Russia. They left everything they’d known behind to start life in the New World. Farming in America! What a grand dream they lived, writing their lives in a new language.
Every generation faces their own challenges. One foot in front of the other. Slow and steady win the race.
Our exchange with this young man while exchanging knowing glances from his sweet mom was heart-felt and real. It made me hold HHH’s hand just a little tighter. Times are tough for older people, too. The future is unchartered for us all.
Would HHH and I trade places with the young man as he had wished?????????
Absolutely not. Every age has it’s own unique beauty and wonder.
24?
Been there, done that. Wouldn’t change our ages even if we could.
More tomorrow.