November 29, 2004
Genes
My genes are feeling rather tight of late, a sort of hemmed-in sensation. It’s that I’m trapped, you see, between two generations, neither of them mine, both of them younger and progenerated, and neither all that respectful.
It’s when the holiday seasons begin to close in on one another that I feel this confinement the most. It’s comforting, of course, that Tom Brokaw called my generation The Greatest, but his opinion has never seemed all that important in my family. In fact, I’ve never heard a one of them ever mention it, save a granddaughter who, on learning I’d once flown airplanes for Uncle Sugar’s Navy, asked if I’d ever killed anybody. I thought she seemed rather disappointed when she learned that I hadn’t. Like what’s a war for, anyway?
Now that Thanksgiving Day and Black Friday are history, it’s time to get into Advent, the best kept secret of the National Retailers Association. But it’s a shame that all its substance about John’s anxiety and Mary’s willingness seems to get wasted on the young. It’s no wonder to me that Advent’s color is blue.
But notice, please, lest all this be taken as lamentation, it’s far from it. Ninety percent of life is just showing up, and thankfully, I did that this morning.