“The death of youth comes for you whether you’re ready for it or not.” As a former kid, every parent believes they’re cooler and hipper than their kids think they are, and there’s definitely a tiny bit of schadenfreude in witnessing your offspring realize they, too, have aged out of the game. It’s happened to me in multiple different ways over the years. Having fancied myself a pretty decent runner for a long time, I remember watching my sixteen or seventeen year old son, who had been jogging along side me on an evening run, casually say he was going to kick it up a little bit and he’d see me at home. Within seconds he was two blocks ahead of me and vanishing out of sight. A few years later I was playing the occasional first base or outfield for the softball team he organized after college and I began to realize my hitting, which had always been of the reliable singles and occasional double lead off man variety, was turning into weak grounders and infield pop-ups. I tried to pass it off as a temporary slump, but when a high fly ball, eminently catchable, landed on my head instead of my glove, I realized it was time to hang up the glove. And the final nail in the coffin of youth was a few months ago, when I flipped through my latest issue of Rolling Stone, a magazine I have subscribed to since issue number ONE, and I did not know a single group or solo artist. That was the unkindest cut of all. So, yes, “the death of youth comes for you whether you’re ready for it or not,” but a great sense of humor will keep you in the game z
I’m not sure when I first realized it but I’m well and truly not with it anymore. I probably never really was with anything in the first place. I actually love instagram where I see memes and things happening that I am completely clueless about and I marvel at the creativity of these people!
I’m most aware of being out of it as I look at these gubbins postcards on twitter and I realize I’m still trying to figure out how to just play the game.
Alas, I was never connected with the youth, even when I was one. However, the experience that drove that point home came during my career in my late 20s. I had been working for the DNR almost a full decade, thinking I was doing something cool, writing environmental impact statements about power plants and stuff like that. Then we got a "request" to volunteer to try to persuade inner city youth in Milwaukee to consider a career in conservation. I duly prepped a speech highlighting the cool stuff we did, like hiking around natural areas, and touring power plants, and the satisfaction of saving the environment from total ruin. Well, as you can guess, my schtick was met with a tiny smattering of polite applause, and a collective look that said "Get outta my face, Honkey." At that point I realized that I didn't relate to the youth, and never would, even when I became a father to two youths. Ah, the circle of life rolls over all of us eventually.
Groovy blog post, Will.
I always knew it would be over a movie for me. I just didn’t know it would come when I was in high school.
“The death of youth comes for you whether you’re ready for it or not.” As a former kid, every parent believes they’re cooler and hipper than their kids think they are, and there’s definitely a tiny bit of schadenfreude in witnessing your offspring realize they, too, have aged out of the game. It’s happened to me in multiple different ways over the years. Having fancied myself a pretty decent runner for a long time, I remember watching my sixteen or seventeen year old son, who had been jogging along side me on an evening run, casually say he was going to kick it up a little bit and he’d see me at home. Within seconds he was two blocks ahead of me and vanishing out of sight. A few years later I was playing the occasional first base or outfield for the softball team he organized after college and I began to realize my hitting, which had always been of the reliable singles and occasional double lead off man variety, was turning into weak grounders and infield pop-ups. I tried to pass it off as a temporary slump, but when a high fly ball, eminently catchable, landed on my head instead of my glove, I realized it was time to hang up the glove. And the final nail in the coffin of youth was a few months ago, when I flipped through my latest issue of Rolling Stone, a magazine I have subscribed to since issue number ONE, and I did not know a single group or solo artist. That was the unkindest cut of all. So, yes, “the death of youth comes for you whether you’re ready for it or not,” but a great sense of humor will keep you in the game z
Whoops. Old fingers. A great sense of humor will keep you in the game a lot longer than most people. And you’ve got that covered.
Way cool job, Will. What?
I’m not sure when I first realized it but I’m well and truly not with it anymore. I probably never really was with anything in the first place. I actually love instagram where I see memes and things happening that I am completely clueless about and I marvel at the creativity of these people!
I’m most aware of being out of it as I look at these gubbins postcards on twitter and I realize I’m still trying to figure out how to just play the game.
Alas, I was never connected with the youth, even when I was one. However, the experience that drove that point home came during my career in my late 20s. I had been working for the DNR almost a full decade, thinking I was doing something cool, writing environmental impact statements about power plants and stuff like that. Then we got a "request" to volunteer to try to persuade inner city youth in Milwaukee to consider a career in conservation. I duly prepped a speech highlighting the cool stuff we did, like hiking around natural areas, and touring power plants, and the satisfaction of saving the environment from total ruin. Well, as you can guess, my schtick was met with a tiny smattering of polite applause, and a collective look that said "Get outta my face, Honkey." At that point I realized that I didn't relate to the youth, and never would, even when I became a father to two youths. Ah, the circle of life rolls over all of us eventually.
I realized my connection to "the youth" was inextricably broken when I found myself counting how many times they used "like" in a sentence.