Went to the dinner last night. The dinner is that one at the end of the year around Christmas where for one reason or another old reptile baits such as myself get together in a last ditch effort to show that we’re relevant. There were about seven hundred there. At this particular dinner students were serving. The guys from the football team, and several girls. The kids were great. The food was not.
Having been to many Realtor dinners I have accustomed myself to such things. A Realtor can easily drink unsweetened tea because at many open houses there is no sugar. At least they did have sugar last night. As we ate I looked at the crowd. It occurred to me that ours is the last generation that read newspapers. The last to go all the way to Barnes and Noble and buy a book. The last to understand a book.
Like I said, the kids were wonderful, but they are a different species. When I was in California my granddaughter, Kylie, was a member of a cheerleading squad. I do not have to say they were beautiful. First off, they were California
girls. Then, of course, they were in shape. During the dinner a group of elderly ladies did a line dance waving feather dusters. The group appropriately called “The Dusters.” As the “Golden Girls” did their bit, I remembered Kylie and her group. Then I added fifty years or so, and realized life comes for us all. Long after I’m gone, Kylie, Brooke, and Little Ollie will be waving those dusters.
Christmas is a time of reflection. A new year is upon us, the old one fading fast, and we begin to realize that we’re one step closer to becoming history. What will we leave? I’ll leave a wealth of writing, but those who read them will be buried right beside me. We will leave a generation that won’t even know the date of 9/11. A generation that thinks Sodom and Gomorrah were married. A generation that’s thinks Martin Luther King freed the slaves. And one day, they too will be sitting at the dinner.The Butcher Shop