You Got Game
I read in the Indy with alarm about keeping an eye out for tide pool poachers. Geez. I’ve been up and over these rock formations for years. I had no idea that there were poachers, pilferers and polluters. I’m so dumb I thought I was just taking a walk. Now, that I know ne’er do wells are lurking about the beach, I’m sticking to Coast Highway. Who would of thought it was safer? “Geez. You crazy driver, you almost hit me. I’m in the crosswalk.” Driver screams back, “Go back to the beach old man. My cousin is a sea star poacher and he’ll give you a close up encounter to the wasting disease. You got game, old fella?”
Getting about has become tougher for aging citizens. Danger is all around us. Yikes. The beach has poachers. The roads have texting polluters. The trails have mountain bike racers. Daylight used to be protection for us Baby Boomers, but now Generations X, Y, and Z seem sun-blinded by social media and show no awareness for seniors barely clinging to this physical world. ”Grandpa died,” tweeted somebody. “No problem, his avatar is cute. He’s my BFF,” texted another. The chat room agreed. The avatar was cuter than Grandpa.
This column is a cry for help. I just want to get to the early bird specials, okay? Early bird specials is our code for happy hour. And make no mistake about it, you socially unaware morons, my age is a tribe to reckon with. We will likely be the last to ever get Medicare. If you keep trying to run us over and pretend we’re your BFF, then we will organize to legally stay on life support and never give the right to disconnect us.
Oh, that got your attention. You just looked up from your mobile devices. Now that I’ve looked you in the eye and made you blink, you really should do something about that stigmatism. Makes you look like you don’t know up from down. We Baby Boomers know up from down because we’ve lived through them and stared life straight in the face. So this is a final plea to you before we take up arms full of lobbyists to bankrupt Medicare and increase inheritance taxes.
Oh gosh look, I got a tweet from the teenager who almost ran me over. “Sorry sir, I didn’t see you. I would like to buy you the first round at Big Fish. My sea star poaching cousin wants to join us. We don’t have any money. But will pay you back when we do. Does 4PM sound okay?”
“It’s a deal young fellas. But bring appropriate ID, preferably yours and check all mobile devices at the door. And don’t worry. I was young once. My treat until you make some serious money. Thanks for the invite. You got game, young fellas. Just takes time growing up. I’m still doing it. And of course I know what it’s about to be a gracious social host. I read the ordinance.”
Mark is a transplant to Laguna from Chicago. He occasionally writes the guest column “Pet Peeves.” His recently deceased Border Collie, Pokey, is his muse and ghostwriter.
