Horsemeat to drivers licenses: How the DOL helped me see past the generational divide
I assured my family that I would never eat a horse I knew personally, but there still seems to be some upset feelings.
I think the kids are distressed about the horsemeat which constituted a romantic entree for their father and me in 1953. Number One Son visited Spokane last month and sent back a picture of the Bowl and Pitcher, a beautiful landmark at Riverside State Park.
”Oh, my goodness,” I rhapsodized. “That’s where your father grilled horsemeat steak on our first date.” (pause for shocked gasps).
Of course, I didn’t know what the meat was. I just thought he couldn’t cook and I was annoyed when I found out. I hope that helps. Beef was hard to get and expensive. It was rationed until 1954, so horse was sold in meat markets. But there’s still palpable consternation around the subject. I should have known better — or at least kept quiet about it.
I’ve been 89 for a month, and by and large, I haven’t liked it.
In the first place, I spend too much time at funerals. I was asked to give a eulogy for a dear friend, and our pastor only allowed me two minutes. Apparently he’d heard me speak before.
In the second place, there’s the problem of generational misunderstanding which seems to be getting worse. I’m feeling like a Time Traveler, who can’t quite fit in. I’ve been trying hard to avoid conflicts by learning the language of the younger generations.
I tried using emojis which I’ve thought of as harmless page brighteners. But no. Each emoji has a meaning and not one means what I thought it did. It turns out, for instance, that the pretty peach that I’ve thought of as, well, a peach, is used by only 7% of texters to represent the fruit. Everyone else uses it for a butt. That’s posterior for people my age. Who knew? Now I’m off peaches and emojis for the foreseeable future, and I’m pretty worried about my previous us of other fruits and vegetables.
Danielle Abrill confirms my suspicions in The Washington Post, when she writes that we really aren’t speaking the same language.
Writing a note, we might automatically end a sentence with a period, but younger readers see a period as a sign of coldness and anger. Caps, commas and periods are seen as shouty, says Abrill. Period.
It seemed to me that one emoji should be quite as good as another, but Gen Z members may read emojis as closely as the letter itself and may completely misunderstand the intent of the writer.
For instance, I thought the painting nails emoji would connote a happy special event, but turns out to indicate pettiness, sass and confidence.
”Slay” does not mean imminent death. It means someone has done an awesome job. Maybe something like, “You slay me, Baby” in the ‘20s and ‘30s.
Nothing means what I expected but I have noticed that those of us who write for a living stubbornly write everything out and put periods at the end of sentences. Always the rebels.
I thought I had a sure-fire topic of general interest with Tom Cruise’s Oscar nominated film “Top Gun: Maverick,” which I could discuss with the Navy element of the family. Had he seen the movie?
”I didn’t plan to, owing to the fact that I HATE Tom Cruise,” he remarked pleasantly. “Most likely, my perception is colored by how much I can’t stand him,” he added.
So naturally, I imagined nothing would cause him to see the movie, but when alumni from the carrier Abraham Lincoln, on which he served, gathered to see it, he joined in. Your companions on the journey make a big difference. His critique was not what you could call favorable.
”They had an entirely CGI dogfight that looked like it belonged in a Star Wars movie. Oh, and they somehow managed to go from Fallon, Nevada to San Diego before lunchtime. Without using airplanes. It was fun catching up with my shipmates, though.”
I didn’t understand one word except “Star Wars” and it’s 45 years old. I was left feeling that I just have no place to fit in. And then something unexpected happened.
Yesterday, the state of Washington renewed my driver’s license for eight years. Eight years! It’s like when the Post Office recognizes Santa Claus. Number One Son quotes Yoda, “Unexpected this is … and unfortunate.” See what I have to put up with?
Never mind. If an official organization like the DOL thinks I’ve got eight years left, I’ve got things to do and languages to learn. I’m going to start making some plans. I’m sure you understand.
Where to find Dorothy in January
Catch Dorothy’s podcast, Swimming Upstream Radio Show, each Monday or archived online. Here are the topics:
Monday, Feb. 6: Red Letter Days with Dr. Patt Schwab.
Feb. 13: Legendary Black Heroes with (Lady D) The Lone Ranger
Feb. 20: Generation Gap with Ray Miller Still
Feb. 27: The Parental Edge with Sari Goodman
Contact Dorothy by phone at 800-548-9264 or Dorothy@swimmingupstreamradioshow.com.
