Benchmarks and Bookends

My mom was the same age when I was born as I was when my son was born.

This fact has given me pause from time to time, as I consider where my mom and I were in relation to where my son and I are now.

At my current age, my mom was working at Hill's department store part-time and my dad was nearing retirement. I had just moved to Alexandria, Virginia, having accepted a job at Kay Jewelers, which had bought out J.B. Robinson. Mr. Ginley followed me there later in the year after his stint at JBR came to an end. 

Flashing forward to the present, my son started his dream job at about the same age as when I was moving to Virginia. 

All of this is apropos of nothing, I supposed. It's just that we always think of our parents as being older than we are. It never feels like we're going to catch up with them. But here I am, facing the same challenges they did at this stage of the game.

I heard the Simon & Garfunkel song, Old Friends the other day. And the words struck me, Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly, how terribly strange to be seventy.

Simon & Garfunkel are seventy-nine.

Well, time flies and there you are. I guess the moral of the story is, don't squander your time. It's so cliché but it really does fly. 

I confess I didn't cut the hedges this week. Instead, I went to a cruise-in where I bopped to old music, chomped a cheeseburger, savored some ice cream and admired vintage automobiles, which are pure art, as far as I'm concerned. Today, I went to Lakewood Arts Festival and strolled among throngs of other art fans looking to enjoy an event that didn't happen last year because of you-know-what. Not exactly setting the world on fire, I grant you that.

Still, I'm not quite ready to sit on a park bench, lost in my overcoat, waiting for the sunset.

There's time enough yet for that, I think.

(Old Friends, lyrics by Paul Simon)