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You're Only as Young as you Are
May. 12th, 2015 08:05 pmWhen I was growing up, one of the things that we, as kids, always dreaded were the moms and dads who tried being like us. It never worked. Wearing the same clothes as their kids always looked as fake as it was; their attempts to use clichés and idioms that kids were using were equally fake. It wasn't cool to have parents carried out on stretchers because they put their backs out trying to be twelve. We wanted our parents to understand us, not try to be like us.
I was always grateful for my parents in this regard. Mom and dad were my parents. They were authority figures. They were older than I was, and I could always count on this. This, for me, was what parents were supposed to be. There was delineation between my pals and my parents. Not that I didn't consider my parents my friends, of course I did. But the distinction between pal and parent was clear: I knew what was acceptable and unacceptable in each group, the boundaries were clear. They were old, out-of-date, totally 1950s (or "so Model T", to use one of Betty's phrases from Father Knows Best), embarrassing, reliable, wise, and wonderful.
I remember, my dad would even take the idioms of my generation and butcher them. This served three purposes for him. First, it harmlessly annoyed the crap out of me. Second, it made it clear to me that he understood the idioms of us kids. And third, it made it clear that he wasn't one of us and had no intention of trying.
So what happened to mom? A few months ago, I was talking to her on the phone, and suddenly she was not using the words for things she'd always used with me. Suddenly she was trying to get all vernacular on me. It was as if she didn't want to pretend to be a part of my generation, but, at 75, she suddenly wanted in on my nieces' and nephews' generation. I wanted her to go back to speaking the way she'd always spoken, I wanted my mom back.
Parents out there, think it through long and hard before you decide to be chummy with your kids. Was that what you wanted when you were a kid? Were you even remotely impressed with the parents who tried? If you did, and if you were, then, well, you and I were obviously from different subcultures or something. But what I needed, growing up, was parents: old-geezer, mildly them-versus-us parents. Age gracefully, my parental aquaintances. In the end, once the rebellion is over, your kids will thank you.
I was always grateful for my parents in this regard. Mom and dad were my parents. They were authority figures. They were older than I was, and I could always count on this. This, for me, was what parents were supposed to be. There was delineation between my pals and my parents. Not that I didn't consider my parents my friends, of course I did. But the distinction between pal and parent was clear: I knew what was acceptable and unacceptable in each group, the boundaries were clear. They were old, out-of-date, totally 1950s (or "so Model T", to use one of Betty's phrases from Father Knows Best), embarrassing, reliable, wise, and wonderful.
I remember, my dad would even take the idioms of my generation and butcher them. This served three purposes for him. First, it harmlessly annoyed the crap out of me. Second, it made it clear to me that he understood the idioms of us kids. And third, it made it clear that he wasn't one of us and had no intention of trying.
So what happened to mom? A few months ago, I was talking to her on the phone, and suddenly she was not using the words for things she'd always used with me. Suddenly she was trying to get all vernacular on me. It was as if she didn't want to pretend to be a part of my generation, but, at 75, she suddenly wanted in on my nieces' and nephews' generation. I wanted her to go back to speaking the way she'd always spoken, I wanted my mom back.
Parents out there, think it through long and hard before you decide to be chummy with your kids. Was that what you wanted when you were a kid? Were you even remotely impressed with the parents who tried? If you did, and if you were, then, well, you and I were obviously from different subcultures or something. But what I needed, growing up, was parents: old-geezer, mildly them-versus-us parents. Age gracefully, my parental aquaintances. In the end, once the rebellion is over, your kids will thank you.
