Don't Take Me Seriously - Book - Page 154
Purple haze and graduation daze
Purple haze all in my eyes
Don’t know if it’s day or
night
You’ve got me blowin’,
blowin’ my mind
Is it tomorrow or just the
end of time?
— Jimi Hendrix
A
h, graduation time:
everyone grinning
like Cheshire cats
and congratulating each other on goals reached and new
adventures to be embarked
upon.
Caps tossed in the air …
… mingled with the scent
of fear … because it’s time
to get real.
Is it tomorrow or just the
end of time?
There’s no more kidding
around. The band is playing you off the stage, and
your next stage, if you have
one, may be better — or it
may not.
And, no, I’m not talking
to the graduates. I’m talking
to you, their parents.
You must now face the
fact you are — well, to put it
bluntly — freaking old.
Come on now, admit it.
You never really believed
you’d get to this place, this
place where you send the
next generation off on their
lives (assuming you can get
them out of the house) and
remember how you felt at
that awkward, wonderful,
Jim
WALKER
DONT TAKE ME SERIOUSLY
frightening stage, when it
was all still before you but it
was finally all up to you.
And at this time, there is
no way to avoid taking stock
of where your lives have
gone since your own graduations.
Did you save the world?
Did you keep the faith? Did
you make that million? Did
you reach for the stars?
Did you avoid prosecution
for that little “incident” way
back when?
Did you turn out to be a
good person? Did you treat
others as you would wish
them to treat you?
Did you at least pick up
your litter and keep your
gum off sidewalks?
Or, most important of all,
did you hold true to your
word and raise your children
in a better way than you
thought your parents raised
you?
Now, if you can pat your-
self on the back and be satisfied that you have accomplished all, or even most of,
what you set out to, well,
know that the other 99 percent of us really hate you.
And know also … that
you are still freaking old.
So neener, neener and go
away.
The rest of us must now
assemble in the gym for reorientation.
What are we gonna do,
my friends?
Oh sure, we will still worry about and assist our kids
along their life paths.
That’s in the contract.
And they will fill our
lives with their adventures
and concerns — and maybe,
even unload grandchildren
on us one day.
Fine.
But that mush is for holidays, twice-yearly visits and
Skype.
My friends, we must protect ourselves. If we let
them, those ingrates will
suck the rest of our rapidly diminishing energy out
of us and we will never get
around to our own important goals … you know, like
building that tree house on
that tropical island or getting the kinks out of the rel-
ativity condenser we’ve
been building out in the
workshop.
We’ve got things to do,
places to go and people to
see.
Shake those clingers off.
Cut ’em loose. They’ve
graduated into their own
shortcomings.
Like the phoenix, it’s time
for our emergence from the
ashes — or at least from the
purple haze of parenthood.
Those decades since our
graduations were spent in
practice for the real adventures we are stepping
out upon now — the ones
we begin with a lifetime
of experience behind us
and a power scooter under us.
This, at last, is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. And we will turn on
(Google), tune in (our hearing aids) and drop back into
the world of wonder.
It’s all before us and up to
us, once again, my friends.
No, it is not the end of
time. It is tomorrow.
So what will I do first?
Well, I think it’s going
to be to pay off my credit cards after the trip back
east this weekend for my
daughter’s college graduation. Maybe I’ll hit up my
mom for a loan, ’cause, you
know, times are tough. Then
I’ll probably spend a few
months digitizing all those
photos of my girls’ childhoods and making those
family DVDs.
But after that. ...
Well, I’m not sure. But
know that it’s gonna be big!
As Walker graduates
into his next phase of life,
know that your heartfelt
good wishes are enough. Do
not send gifts. Comment at
jwalker@the-signal.com,
@DontSeriously and @
SCVSignal.
