Intergenerational….

My sister called - said “whenya coming over?”… Eh, I dunno ,why… what’s going on?

“Gotta new book I think you’ll find interesting.”

She knew the hatred librarians have for me. I awaken in the middle of the night with them wielding axes, chasing me, ranting “YOU’RE THREE WEEKS OVERDUE SONNY!” So, figured, this must be some book.

Got there. Hugged. Yapped. Then she brought out this nifty, Liberty Bluejay blue - book. Was a compilation of whoever in the hell they could find (from our High School) from over the years.. Where they lived… who they married… what their careers were.. And any accomplishments they’d cared to mention…

“Let’s see who (from our High School) now lives in Hawaii?”.. k….

What about California? Can u imagine living in California after growing up in Hicksville?

Hey, can I peek at the chapter where they specifically list people from my class?

We had fun. Names from yesteryear. “Do you remember so-and-so?.. I can’t believe so-and-so and so-and-so aren’t married any longer.. Wasn’t she Homecoming Queen and he the King back in such-n-sucha year?”

So… after an hour of turning the pages in anticipation - learning of those from her class, and my class… it dawned on me.. I’d recently switched jobs… So.. I said “Hey Vanda, look me up and see what it says!”…

She thumbed to the page.. And in her wonderfully dramatic way… silently looked up at me, smiled… back down at the page… eyes again up at me.. And with a gleam (and the biggest chit-eatin’ grin ever) “Cradle Robber.”

Dammit. She got me. YES, YES. I was married to someone 7 years younger. OK OK, yes, there were about five months of the year I was EIGHT years older. It was fun, and it was hell - waking up every morning, staring in the mirror “hey, I wonder how many years older than her I look today?… I’m getting lines… She’ll never ‘catch me.’ I did that for 20+ years - and with the exception of mebbe some music differences - it was all good.

Attended my stepson’s wedding in Florida a few years back. Marrying a wonderful gal. Now this gal’s mom and dad happened to have divorced. Dad, a professor at a local college - had now fancied up with onea his students. Yes, the same age as his daughter. Weird. But, they were nice, she was nice, stepson’s bride wasn’t affected by it all - and life/wedding was wonderful.

Katie Couric, God Bless her at 50, is dating a 33 year old man. On the arm of fitty-nine year old James Woods is his 20 year old girlfriend. Jack Nicholson ages, but the age of his companions remains the same.

A little bit ago - I had a one day date with someone hella younger than me. Yes, we’ve discussed it ain’t an illegal thing. She’s got kids in High School so I’m not THAT bad. And, it wasn’t a love at first sight kinda thing - but ya know, we each were lonely and we each enjoyed each other’s company. After maybe some initial grumpiness of "uh oh, another man" she was nice to me. Very nice in fact.

I’d lost her phone number.. Was in her town recently.. Decided to drive by her house… Didn’t have the watoosies to get outta my car and say “hey, howya doin?”…Did get her addy. Went home, snail mail. “Ya know, I know I’m too old for you.. But… we had fun.. Even you said it.. We don’t have to ever think longterm.. It is what it is… two people, presently lonely, who had a good time… call me sometime if you wanna.”

A couple of weeks went by… Message on the answering machine… “Victor, this is so-and-so.” I don’t have caller ID. Damn daddy.

Yesterday at work. Ring, ring. “Transpo” ß dat be where I work. “Victor, this is so-and-so, and I’m having a BBQ tomorrow night and wondered if you wanted to come over?”

Just shoot me. Make funa me. Laugh at me. One time, long ago, she just mighta gotten outta band camp. The ex that sister was referring I’d been the “cradle robber” - and I owned a small business. One treat to this business was going monthly to this crotchety ole accountant who chastised me each and every month about taxes, this, that - and I felt like dog poop each and every time I walked outta his door. Worse, I’d cut him a check each time right before I left.

So I thought.. “I know, I’ll take whatshername… maybe he’ll be nicer to me.”… So we went. Same ole questions.. He was a little nicer.. Fifteen minutes into it “Well… aren’t you gonna introduce me to your daughter?” Bastard. Cradle robber. Guilty. Here come dreams of (nuns this time) wielding axes, chasing me… “CRADLE ROBBER - CRADLE ROBBER!”..

A BBQ huh? “Wow, you sound so sexy on the phone.” NO! PLEASE, PLEASE don’t do that to me, the “I can drink coffee for fitty-four cents at Mickey D’s one.” I ain’t deserving! In twenty years you could still be hot, and I’d be in Depends!

“Ahm, sure, I’d love that - what can I bring?”… “Just yourself.”

So I’m going. I’ll feel strange. At some point in the evening I’ll go pee, there will be a mirror there - I’ll peek at it and think “you dumbass, what are you doing here.”

It’s ok. It’s life. It’s today. It ain’t tomorrow. It beats the hell outta flipping between Yahoo and Hotmail and MySpace to see if by chance anyone has touched the keyboard and sent me a note. I’m “doing”. I ain’t “done” in a long time.

Bottomline, it was a feel good. Yes, see how I arranged them words: feel good. Not the other way around. Yes, all men are pigs - but too, sometimes life happens. Tonight I will live. Just a day, not an eternity. She’s nice. She’s pretty, she’s today, not tomorrow. I’m old, we had fun, I wasn’t in the dishwater, it’s one night. Seeing my bank balance, I sureashell ain’t no sugar daddy.

I don’t seek younger women, I live. This one, actually, initiated the first conversation. Knowing it's actually just 'life' insteada a 'future life' helps. Normally, on date two I've fast-forwaded everything in my brain down to "where we'll live, what we'll do, how will they be around so-and-so, and 'til death do us part." Not this time. One day. Just one day. "Doing." "Being." "Living."

Victor, it’s ok. Relax. Life is for living. Yeah, I rectum. Going now. Have a great weekend.

Now whereinthehell did I put my cane?…. Love, Victurd.