I Grew Old Overnight Vol. IV
Hip and Cool, I Think Not!
I always said I didn’t mind gettin’ old as long as I didn’t get sick. Well, I take that back. I DO mind. Just trying to keep up with bein’ cool with my kids and grandkids is an exhausting feat in itself. One day my son was listening to rap in my car so naturally, I tried to be all ‘hip n cool.” I said ‘Oh, this is SICK! I just LOVE Grandmother Flash!” “That’s GrandMASTER Flash, ma,” my son replied as he rolled his eyes. Hey, I don’t think any of my children or grandchildren see eye to eye with me when it comes to music. I don’t know if what they listen to now is even considered music today. The singers don’t even SING - they growl. Ya know what I mean?
I went to a concert with my daughter and all the lead singers in ALL of the bands just growled. None of them sang, they just roared and growled into the mic. My daughter yelled in my ear, “he’s really good isn’t he?” I mean, what could I say? “Yes, he has a really good growl voice.” In my day you had singers that you could identify just by hearing the first three or four notes. Case in point: Karen Carpenter. I just loved her beautiful voice and I couldn’t imagine her having to ‘growl’ her way through the 21st century just because it’s the cool and hip thing to do.
If music isn’t hard enough to keep up with, technology is a nightmare. I consider myself pretty ‘tech-savvy,’ or at least computer literate. After all, I did use computers nearly my entire working life. I guess the problem I have is with video games. I’ve tried to play video games with my little grandson but it always ended with him throwing the controller on the bed in frustration. The other day he wanted me to play some ‘war shoot-’em-up” game. It didn’t go very well. Here I was this decorated soldier, and I couldn’t even get out of the bunker thing. I just stood there running in place, smacking my head into the concrete wall, over and over again. “Turn around, gramma,” my grandson yelled. “Shoot!” I started pushing all the buttons on the controller in a panic. One button made me jump up, one made me squat down but I couldn’t find the one to make me turn around. I was able to get my gun out, but when I finally figured out how to shoot it, I only managed to shoot myself - in the foot.
The last video game I tried was some, I dunno, Spanish ship explorer-type game. My oldest son was playing and asked me to take over while he stepped out for a cigarette. “Now, ma, just keep it steady until I get back. Shoot that ship over there if it gets too close.” I was determined to show him that I could play with the best of them, but in the space of only 3 minutes, I’d lost his treasure, run his ship aground, and got him in trouble with the Spanish Armada. (Geeze, what kid tells his OWN MOTHER to ‘walk the plank?’)
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