On tap: Random thoughts with my grandkid
Getting older, maybe wiser?
By Jack
Hey, kid, thanks for having a beer with me. You doing, ok? Good to hear.
Yeah, I heard about the protests in Los Angeles over immigration. I don’t want to get too deep into the politics of it, but let me give you my opinion:
There is a lot of venom aimed at immigrants these days. And, unless you can trace your ancestry back to a Native American tribe, someone in your family was an immigrant. And, I bet that they were not warmly welcomed at first.
I’m sure you have heard the stories, but our ancestors first came to America in 1850 during the Great Irish Famine. They settled in Boston, knowing some families who had come a few years earlier. Despite the fact there was a sizeable Irish population in Boston even then, your ancestors weren’t handed the key to the city. No, they found it difficult to find work, with Irish Need Not Apply Signs hanging in the windows of many businesses. The men mostly worked at the docks or construction and the women as domestic servants to the Boston Brahmins. You might have read about this in school, but our ancestors lived it.
The work our early ancestors did was menial and hard but honest work, and they were able to provide better lives for their kids who were able to do the same for theirs, like I tried to do for your dad and he did for you.
Yes, it would be best if all immigrants came here legally, but let’s not forget that nearly all are decent human beings who want to carve out a good life for themselves and their families, much like our ancestors. Here’s my take on it, kid. Our family has been here in America for a long time, but never forget you are a product of immigrants.
Some of you younger people can grow frustrated with us older folk. Frustrated by our difficulty in coming to grips with many changing social norms, technological advances and, in general, the more hectic pace of today’s world. I don’t want to speak for everyone who has been around a while, but be patient with us. Yes, someone my age struggles to understand the world today. Things were quite different when we were younger. Not saying things were better - some were, some weren’t - just different. I want to keep up with the times, don’t want to seem like some old fart who has outlived his usefulness, but need help from time to time. Crypto? Barely understand it. Zelle, Venmo, ApplePay? What happened to cash? Airbnb, Vrbo? AI? Chatgpt? It is all hard to keep up with. I am trying, Give those of us some credit for the journey. Hey, when some day when you have kids they will be rolling their eyes at something you don’t understand.
Your grandmother asked me the other day to pick up a few items at the grocery store. Went to the one near my house. Yeah, believe it or not I used one of the self-serve stations. Stop laughing, you wise-ass. Looked over at the self-serve station next to mine and saw a very pretty young woman, likely your age, somewhere in her mid`20s, with a tee shirt and fairly skimpy shorts on. Know what my reaction was? “That kid is dressed inappropriately!” Yeah, a hell of a lot different that what yours would have been, kid. I’m glad that at my age I’m not some lecherous old bastard, but it made me realize that it seemed I was your age not that long ago, but, it was. You’ll see, kid, you’ll see. Time goes by fast.
I find myself being treated differently the older i get, or at least it appears that way. Young people automatically assume I am technologically an idiot (which, to some extent, is an accurate assessment), some doctors won’t take Medicare, I am invisible to some, an annoyance to others. On the other hand, when it snows a nice young couple next door offers to shovel the snow in my yard, which i gladly accept. so, you know, some good some bad about getting older.
Went for my annual physical recently. overall, i am healthy, apparently being crusty can help keep you living longer. Doctor said I must be doing the right things, like exercising regularly and eating well. I responded by telling him that my only exercise were bicep curls from lifting my beer mug repeatedly and that hot dogs were my favorite meal. He didn’t seem amused. I either have good genetics or an impending stroke, either way I’m good.
Speaking of exercise, order me another beer, kid, while I use the restroom. My bladder seems to be getting smaller as each year passes.
About the author: “Who wants to know?”