SEPTEMBER 9, 2019 – Unless your name is “Benjamin Button,” when you’re young, everything you know about being older is vicarious. You watch your parents, grandparents, maybe great-grandparents, and wonder how you’ll appear, think and act when you’re an old geezer. More likely, you’ll proclaim how you won’t appear, think or act. Good luck with that!
Once you’re “old,” you can derive amusement from chatting with your much younger self; on second thought, perhaps not. Here’s how a recent conversation went between me and my young self . . .
OLD SELF: Pssst!
YOUNG SELF: Huh?
OLD SELF: Yeah, you. Quit pretending you don’t know me.
YOUNG SELF: I don’t.
OLD SELF: Yes you do.
YOUNG SELF: But you’re old.
OLD SELF: I’m you.
YOUNG SELF: You mean you’re what I’ll be?
OLD SELF: That’s the program. Almost didn’t make it . . . when you stepped out in front of that bus in downtown Minneapolis.
YOUNG SELF: Huh?
OLD SELF: I forgot—you’re much younger than I thought.
YOUNG SELF: Look, I gotta run. I don’t have time to . . .
OLD SELF: Don’t have time to talk to your old self? What are you afraid of?
YOUNG SELF: Your gray beard, for one thing. You’re lookin’ almost as old as my grandpa who’s lookin’ really old.
OLD SELF: Gray is the color of distinction. You’ll learn to accept it gracefully.
YOUNG SELF: Sorry. An old guy in shorts isn’t graceful, and the gray beard makes you look old, no matter what you think.
OLD SELF: Okay, speaking of shorts, those ridiculously short running shorts make you look, well, ridiculous.
YOUNG SELF: Wanna run to the Lake Street Bridge and back? Then we’ll see who looks ridiculous.
OLD SELF: Gee. This conversation isn’t going the way I’d planned.
YOUNG SELF: What had you planned?
OLD SELF: A warm, cordial, pleasantly nostalgic conversation.
YOUNG SELF: Sorry, grandpaw. I think you look great for a grandpaw and all, but we’re just not the same person, no matter how you want things to be otherwise.
OLD SELF: I see. Yes, I guess you’re right. I had no business barging in on you like this, disrupting your hopes, expectations for yourself.
YOUNG SELF: Well, the fact that you’re still around fulfills a basic hope, anyway.
OLD SELF: Yes, I suppose it does.
YOUNG SELF: But beyond that, I’m just going to have to figure out stuff for myself. As much as you might like to help out, I don’t think that’s going to work.
OLD SELF: You know, young self, you’re not all bad. You’re gonna be okay. I mean, you’ll do just fine for yourself but . . .
YOUNG SELF: What’s with the qualification?
OLD SELF: Oh, nothing.
YOUNG SELF: No, really, what were you about to say?
OLD SELF: What I tell you isn’t going to change anything.
YOUNG SELF: I can try.
OLD SELF: No, as you just said, it just doesn’t work that way.
YOUNG SELF: Fine, but you can at least satisfy my curiosity.
OLD SELF: Okay, okay. I’ll tell you, You should trade in those ridiculous running shorts and your running obsession and focus more on . . .
YOUNG SELF: Focus more on what?
OLD SELF: Just about anything.
YOUNG SELF: You’ve got to be kidding. Not going to happen.
OLD SELF: As we’ve acknowledged, what I tell you isn’t going to change anything.
YOUNG SELF: Can we meet again?
OLD SELF: Sure.
YOUNG SELF: When?
OLD SELF: When we’re both older and a tad wiser.
© 2019 Eric Nilsson
