I use a hair salon every six weeks. The salon is full of beautiful, up-to-the-minute young ladies with plumped lips, tattooed bodies, amazing eyelashes and eyebrows, and flawless make-up and hair.
They wear interesting shoes, hats, very stylish clothing and are very, very good at their job. Their conversations often revolve around topics I have either never heard of or don’t understand. My excellent stylist is the daughter of a woman who I taught my second-year teaching. It’s possible there are times I feel old.
Observing the young can be intimidating, judgmental or great fun. In the fourth century BC, Plato was heard to remark: “What is happening to our young people? They disrespect their elders; they disobey their parents. They ignore the law. They riot in the streets, inflamed with wild notions.”
The other side of that coin is a quote from Wess Stafford, president emeritus of Compassion International: “Every child you encounter is a divine appointment.”
A Mr. Stafford advocate, I sometimes slip into a Plato mood. Recalling one’s youthful escapades can quickly cure one of any righteous indignation. The years Dan was in the Navy offer up several examples.
Stationed in Charleston, South Carolina, we lived in a trailer park filled with love and drama. After a few months, a better trailer at less rent became available and we moved. Having paid the required $50 damage deposit, a lot of money for us at the time, we thoroughly cleaned our former home for the landlady’s inspection.
Hot and tired from a day of heaving heavy things, we waited for our deposit only to hear trailer was filthy and we most certainly would not receive our money back. My fiery 20-year-old self voiced several negative thoughts concerning this decision and we all exited the trailer.
About 10 p.m., our former landlady and her son drunkenly roared down the road to our new place, screaming for Dan to come outside. Our new landlady charged out of her next-door home, laid a shotgun across the fence and pointed it straight at the car. That calmed things right down.
Another escapade involves the time we left home at 8 p.m. for a weekend retreat to the mountains. Throwing a couple of blankets in the car and picking up some Air Force friends, our goal was to introduce our flat-lander friends to the mountains. When we got to the campground, around 3 a.m., it was raining, cancelling the sleep outside with blankets plan.
Dan and I generously gave our 6-foot friend and his wife the backseat of our straight shift ’67 Cougar while we slept in the trunk. Rising from the trunk the next morning, we were met by the incredulous stares of our fellow campers. Smelling our neighbor’s frying bacon and hot coffee reminded us we’d failed to bring food. Today’s youth have nothing on our youth.
A friend once asked what would I take with me as I wander down the road of life?
It is a question I think of often. Will I drag indignation with me? Condemnation? Can I make room for tolerance and love? Everybody is on this road, taking the same journey. We’re all just people making our best way. Observe the youth and reminisce.
By the way, my friend said he’d take his tomato with him. Don’t ask.
Cindy Arp, teacher/librarian, retired from Knox County Schools. She and husband Dan live in Heiskell. And she goes hiking once a week – even in a forest fire.