It is officially recognized as The Worst Baby Boomer Nightmare Ever. And some day soon it may happen to you!
For me it happened in a small neighborhood fruit and vegetable store. It actually happened more than a few years ago, back in the day when the picture I use on this blog wouldn't even have yet qualified as Exhibit A in a suit for Internet Fraud and Misrepresentation. And it happened at a time when my son Brandon was still of the young sweet voice he was to so inconsiderately drop way too soon thereafter.
The store owner was an older Asian woman who having seen Brandon in the store more often than she'd seen me gave him a warm hello while I set about shopping. There were just a few items to grab in the store, but for me nothing's ever easy starting with opening those little plastic bags that are engineered to be welded shut whenever I approach.
I crinkle the bag. I twist the bag. I rub the bag vigorously between my thumb and forefinger. I ask the 80 plus year old lady in the next aisle if she'll help me open the bag, hoping she won't think I'm coming on to her. Success at last.
Now: which are peaches and which are nectarines again? Oh yeah, that's why the call it peach fuzz. How do I properly stage my banana purchases for the week? Two yellow, three green, one drop dead green? What if I don't want a banana every day? What if I want two? Parsley? Is it flat parsley, curly leaf parsley, Italian parsley, root parsley --- I don't even like parsley! Why is there always one strawberry in every box infected with white rot? Will it poison me? Arugula? I thought Arugula was an island in the Caribbean!
We were at the cash register ready to check out and go on our way. And the Asian lady at the register, the one who knows Brandon better than she knows me, smiles at him and says:
" So .... you show Grand Pop around the store today?"Now I'd like to say it isn't so. I'd like to say I'm better than that. But the truth is, I'm not.
It is The Worst Baby Boomer Nightmare Ever, and it has left me narrow-minded, intolerant, and bitter. I'm not proud, but ever since that day I've become an angry raging inconsolable bigot.
I hate fruits and vegetables.