Last month I listed some signs that I am aging. Upon reflection, I realized that there are plenty of things I do to stay young. To keep myself active and in the game. To stay connected to the community of the world and up to date on everything that goes on around me.
Haha. No, just kidding. I’m a clueless middle-aged woman who, if I didn’t have teenage kids, would be completely cut off from the zeitgeist that is now. But here are some attempts of mine to stay relevant.
I watch the Daily Show with Trevor Noah and take notes. Sometimes I have to turn up the volume and replay a part. I learn how the young folk view the important issues of the day. Trevor uses all the “hip lingo” so I can understand young folk. The fact that I used the terms “hip lingo” and “young folk” shows I have learned nothing from my efforts.
Craft beer. Blech. I hate beer of any kind. But craft beer comes with an aftertaste of pretention. No less than 4 new microbreweries have opened in my little suburban neighborhood in the past few years, and I have been to them all. I drank flights of varying shades of beer from urine specimen sized glasses.And I made appreciative noises like “Oh, this one has body.” And “The hops in this one comes though.” Or “I get notes of chocolate.” This is the biggest lie. Chocolate is way better than beer. No contest.
(looks like pee, tastes like socks... where's the Proseco?)
I have a sticker on my laptop. It’s of Gritty the terrifying mascot of the Philadelphia hockey team the Flyers. He’s so awful he’s wonderful. With horrendous googly eyes and shocking orange fur, he is the stuff of nightmares. But more importantly, he’s in sticker form. And stickers are the new thing. Stickers used to be the old thing. I had a collection of them in a three-ring binder with photo album pages in them (Remember photo albums? Oops, showing my age)
(The sticker on my laptop. Gritty celebrates Shabbos)
Texting. I have mastered the group text, muting the group text, and the use of emojis. After some instruction from my offspring, I think I’m a master. (Turns out the kissing one is a romantic kissing one and you shouldn’t send it to your offspring. But this is hard to tell without reading glasses). I’m texting birthday messages to my friends with dancing cakes. I’m dashing off responses with abbreviations like LMK and IKR. I’m in tune with modern forms of communication.
I listen to the alternative rock station. Yep. I’m that mom who can identify all the bands and artists that are playing music that reflects the sentiments of today’s generation. Their struggles in an uncertain world, facing economic and climate threats. But only when my kids are in the car with me. As soon as I drop them off, I switch to the oldies station that plays 80s pop. Because those songs reflect the sentiments of yesterday’s generation. Because nothing speaks to the struggles my generation coped with more than the Go-Go’s.