I have spent the better part of this week listening to a song called “Mnike”. Not because I enjoy it or feel any great affinity for it, but because it’s all the rage on social media. The kids seem to love it and the folks who determine what’s cool and what’s not have termed it cool. So I’m REALLY trying to get in to it. The truth is, it’s not working. I don’t like the song. It doesn’t speak to me. If anything it’s just a reminder of what I’m trying to avoid. What is that you ask? Well, aging of course…
Not long ago I was a young cat, cool with all the lingo and aware of any and all social trends. I knew all the hottest tunes, was a regular at many of the hippest night spots and drank the most fashionable drinks on offer. I didn’t have a care in the world and pitied those who did. Back to back partying was a norm and recovering from a big night was standard operating procedure.
One morning after a big night, my dad who was 40 years my senior, advised me that my youth would be here today, and gone tomorrow. I laughed in his face, assuming I detected a hint of jealousy. My dad had a wicked sense of humour and laughed even louder as he assured me there wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in him relating to my youth. He told me, in the most round about way that youth was wasted on the young. I chuckled and ordered a draught as if to drive home the point that I was enjoying my golden days. Not long after that incident my mother enquired when I intended to settle down and deliver her one more grandchild. She had three wonderful granddaughters she told me, it was time for a grandson. I chortled as I assured her I wouldn’t be in that movie for at least another 10 years. In almost exactly the same words and tone as my dad, my mother posited that I would soon be an old man. I wondered whether they’d choreographed their approach. Knowing them, they probably did.
Anyway, that day my parents wished for me has well and truly descended and for all my sins I have no idea what to do with myself. I am completely out of touch with the slang. I don’t know (nor like) the latest hit songs and wouldn’t be able to point you in the direction of the hippest night spots if I wanted to. Going out is a chore and my biggest gripe at eateries now is how loud the music is. Almost over night I have morphed in to an old codger. When I’m surfing the social media streets and I come across “celebrity gossip” I assume the accounts are parodies because why would “Lil Green Onion” be a celebrity and why would he/she/them be caught in a love triangle with Ice White?! Who even are these people, and what names are these?! Then I have to log off the medium because a Beyonce fan has tried to make the point that Jay Z would be nothing without her. Or that the greatest entertainer that ever lived: Michael Joseph Jackson was in any way inferior to the quite ordinary Mrs Knowles-carter.
Then to top off my mini mid life crisis my eldest niece turned 27 last week. An absolutely unnecessary reminder that I am no longer a youth, but worse still my mother saw the grey patch in my beard and let out a startled “ke moriri o moseou?”. But the worst was still to come. Minding my business on a cold winter morning I received a text from my wife. A picture from our 1st anniversary together with the simple caption “look how young you looked here”. That I recovered from that text speaks volumes for my resilience as a human. Perhaps with age comes not just wisdom, but also resilience?
I used to think I missed the old fun me, but the truth is I don’t. I enjoyed those years in my life but it’s folly to call them my best years. Those in fact are right now, as I try and shape the life and world view of my nearly 2year old son. The best of times are extended family holidays with aunts and uncles and grandparents alike. It’s enjoying a quiet meal with my beautiful wife and hearing her plan my life for me. Much as I cringe when I think of turning 40 next year, I do love this bit of my life, I only wish my dad was here to continue to guide and mould me. His wife will continue doing the sterling job she’s always done though. And I’ll always have the memories…
