Day 22180

The best way to learn about someone is to simply listen to them.

I spent my lunch hour at a quiet pizza place near the office. I like to eat and I like to read, and I love when those two interests are combined. My reading, however, was interrupted by the group of women sitting at a nearby table.

All of them were in their late 70s and they all seemed to think that the world was going to hell in a handbasket based on how “all those young people” voted for the new mayor of New York. I listened for about 15 minutes as they complained how the youth would have to “face the consequences” on their voting “against their own interests.”

I’ll let that sit there for you to mull over an come to your own conclusions. Personally, I didn’t agree with anything this four affluent Republican women were saying, but I wasn’t surprised that they felt the way they did.

The more I listened to them, the more I thought about their generation, which has wanted to run things since they were their grandchildren’s age. I was sad for them, mostly because it was so obvious that they had forgotten what it is like to be young. I was angry at them for their myopic and racist world view, as well as their attitude toward young people.

With my gray hair and deteriorating joints, young people are likely to categorize me with these women. That doesn’t bother me, because I do remember what it means to have been young. I do remember having my father berate me for my political beliefs, which happened to be based upon what I had learned from him and mandatory attendance at church.

With a few generational exceptions – thinking of my own generation here – young people have had a tendency to want to make the world a better place. I look at the things my own children and their peers believe; their sense of justice and their desire to make their way in the world. The things that interest them are much different than what I wanted at their age.

I also understand why they roll their eyes when some old fogey complains that they don’t know how to use an old telephone or write in cursive. Why would they? Those are skills that are no longer needed.

So, that was my lunch hour; listening to old ladies complain about how much the world has change. Seems like it hasn’t changed enough, if you ask me.