Dumb Kid / Silly Geezer
I Was/Am Both
Ego prevented me from posting the worst picture of me young, or the worst one of me old. And the difference in age between these two pictures is only 38 years (25 and 63), not 50.
I was wondering if I could go back half a century in time and see myself now, would I make fun of me. Doubtless I would; or, as we expressed it back then, “No doubt!”
Things I do, things I say, and how I look would have made me an object of ridicule to myself, or at best a source of amusement. As politically incorrect and mean-spirited as it is, it would not be just what I do and say, but how I look, too — overweight and out of shape, gray and physically sedentary (at least in comparison to how active, energized, and even frenetic I was then) — that would incite a reaction of revulsion, or at best disapproval.
But then again, the old me (which was actually the young version of me) might receive just as much mockery and scorn from the new me (which is the old version of me). If we could meet, at 14 and 64, without recognizing who this geezer or whippersnapper was, the abuse heaped upon each other, and the volume (in both senses of the word) of jeers and sneers that would pass between us would be cacaphonous. No doubt!
So we’re even — the old (young) and the new (old) me, that is: we both proclaim a pox on each other’s houses, or at least a disdain for each other’s general condition and outlook. Just as the old me (the teenager) would find the new me (the retiree) ludicrous or pitiful, the new/now/current me also shakes his head in scoffing wonder at the things that young fella used to do, say, and think. And even, at times, how he looked.
And how about our taste in music (the then-me and the now-me)? I’ve always liked rock, funk, soul, and blues (still do!), but if I had known half a century ago that I would end up liking country, classical, pop, reggae, and even disco, I may have self-harmed. But now I just grin and bear it that one of my favorite genres to play on the bass is disco (and disco-pop, meaning Abba).
If only our seasoned selves could tell our callow selves what to watch out for — what to avoid and what to gravitate toward. It reminds me of the Brad Paisley song “Letter to Me” where he sings about the more mature version of himself guiding the young version of himself.
George Bernard Shaw (a big fan of Mark Twain, by the way) perhaps put it best when he said, “Youth is wasted on the young.”
I’m not nearly as jaded or unhappy as this article may make me seem but, on the other hand, there is more than a mere kernel of honesty in it. No doubt!
The moral of the story is: We change as we age, and probably should; but not all changes are necessarily improvements.
When it comes to not being as jaded as I might seem to be based on my dismissive view of my former self, I actually feel immense empathy for those coming of age in today's world. Adolescence was not easy in the 1970s, but I think it is far more difficult now, for a variety of reasons. Hang in there, kids! You can do this! Don't let the silly geezers or dumb kids bring you down.
Tsk ,Tsk ,Tsk!!