(this is annie)

The good thing about getting older is that — if all goes well — you are wiser, more experienced, calmer, and more mature. The bad thing is that you realize what a nincompoop you were when you were younger, and the even worse thing is that you know you'll say the same thing about your current self 10 years from now. Which, in a way, is the same as the good thing. Oh my gosh, it's the CIRCLE OF LIFE.

Recently, I was working on a project with a few people in their early to mid-20s. They said things like "it's the bomb dot com" and "chillax." And in the annoying way that very young people complain seriously about "getting old," they began grousing about their alleged hoariness. "Wow, we're ancient," the tattooed 22-year-old said.

"Then I'm paleolithic," I said.

Blank stare.

"Ancient," I said.

He asked my age. I don't like to give it out very often, and this has nothing to do with fear of aging. It's because I take after my grandfather and like to create a little mystery. (That, and I sometimes forget if I'm 30 or 31.)

But I was feeling charitable, so I revealed the number to our young friend Mr. Inky Knuckles. He looked surprised. "No way, man," he yelped. "I thought you were way younger."

A pause. "Man," he said, "if I'd known there'd be cougars here, I woulda brought some catnip."

Shortly after this exchange, I moved to another area where I could be alone with my large-print Reader's Digest. Later, S. told me that she'd spotted Inky Knuckles rubbing circles around his nipple. When she asked what he was doing, he cleared things up. "Turnin' on the heater," he explained. I sighed, did a shot of Metamucil, and vowed to procure a lawn just so I can tell the damn kids to stay off of it.

Labels: strangers