Changes
Bob Dylan had it right. The times, they are a changin'!
I'll be fifty this November. I haven't lived what anyone would call a sheltered life. I mean, I've been around the block, over it, under it, and climbed all the trees. But now and then something shocks me. Not that I swooned, or blushed, or even let on that I was shocked, but I let out a good laugh when I was out of earshot!
I'm on my way back from the grocery store, carrying three plastic shopping bags, wearing a wool kilt, hiking boots, socks pushed down, Aran sweater, and the usual accessories. I'm not dressed up, but I'm looking all right for a guy my age with a week's worth of grey beard.
I passed two cute young girls, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Not just too young for me but too young for anyone.
As they pass me, one of them says, "Nice kilt!"
"Thanks," I said over my shoulder, and kept walking. That happens a lot in Vancouver and it doesn't even slow me down anymore.
Then one of the, wolf whistled. I raised my eyebrows and grinned but they were behind me, so they couldn't see my expression as I walked away from them.
"Very sexy!" one of them called from about fifteen feet away.
I chuckled because they were so young, calling me sexy.
In a lower tone I probably wasn't supposed to hear, and wouldn't have if the traffic hadn't suddenly disappeared, one of them said to the other, "I'd f*** that!"
Now ... I didn't falter in my walking rhythm. I didn't do a comical sudden stop, or a quick spin with my mouth agape and my eyes wide. I kept walking until I got to my apartment building, turned into the walkway, unlocked the door, and entered. I was out of sight and cracked up laughing.
Girls didn't talk like that when I was in my mid-teens. At least I never heard it in public! Where the hell were girls like that when I was their age and would have traded two meals a day to meet them?
I'm still laughing! All those boys their age in this city, hormones raging, half crazed with puberty, not knowing how to get any, and these girls are talking about doing a guy almost four times their age!
I thought about whether or not I should write about this incident. The girls were minors and I didn't want to seem like a dirty old man. Then I thought, wait a minute! I didn't do anything but walk down the street! I wasn't the dirty one in this incident! I'd write it.
But ...
Or what if someone got offended by this post? I don't much care if reality is offensive to a small minority. Don't like it; don't read it.
Nope. Can't think of one good reason not to post this ... what was that? Manners? Etiquette? Common decency?
The times, they are a changin'!
I'll be fifty this November. I haven't lived what anyone would call a sheltered life. I mean, I've been around the block, over it, under it, and climbed all the trees. But now and then something shocks me. Not that I swooned, or blushed, or even let on that I was shocked, but I let out a good laugh when I was out of earshot!
I'm on my way back from the grocery store, carrying three plastic shopping bags, wearing a wool kilt, hiking boots, socks pushed down, Aran sweater, and the usual accessories. I'm not dressed up, but I'm looking all right for a guy my age with a week's worth of grey beard.
I passed two cute young girls, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Not just too young for me but too young for anyone.
As they pass me, one of them says, "Nice kilt!"
"Thanks," I said over my shoulder, and kept walking. That happens a lot in Vancouver and it doesn't even slow me down anymore.
Then one of the, wolf whistled. I raised my eyebrows and grinned but they were behind me, so they couldn't see my expression as I walked away from them.
"Very sexy!" one of them called from about fifteen feet away.
I chuckled because they were so young, calling me sexy.
In a lower tone I probably wasn't supposed to hear, and wouldn't have if the traffic hadn't suddenly disappeared, one of them said to the other, "I'd f*** that!"
Now ... I didn't falter in my walking rhythm. I didn't do a comical sudden stop, or a quick spin with my mouth agape and my eyes wide. I kept walking until I got to my apartment building, turned into the walkway, unlocked the door, and entered. I was out of sight and cracked up laughing.
Girls didn't talk like that when I was in my mid-teens. At least I never heard it in public! Where the hell were girls like that when I was their age and would have traded two meals a day to meet them?
I'm still laughing! All those boys their age in this city, hormones raging, half crazed with puberty, not knowing how to get any, and these girls are talking about doing a guy almost four times their age!
I thought about whether or not I should write about this incident. The girls were minors and I didn't want to seem like a dirty old man. Then I thought, wait a minute! I didn't do anything but walk down the street! I wasn't the dirty one in this incident! I'd write it.
But ...
Or what if someone got offended by this post? I don't much care if reality is offensive to a small minority. Don't like it; don't read it.
Nope. Can't think of one good reason not to post this ... what was that? Manners? Etiquette? Common decency?
The times, they are a changin'!
