Patinkin: Do I act like a boomer? Let me count the signs
Believe it or not, “boomer” used to mean “young.” I’m not sure how it suddenly now means “old.” But it got me thinking of signs that I fit the current definition.
When registering on a new website, it takes 20 minutes to scroll to my birth year.
Cortisone is now my favorite recreational drug.
Twenty pairs of readers all over the house.
Very confused by the names of musical artists — like, what is Bad Bunny?
When I stand from my La-Z-Boy, doing that too-loud dad-groan thing.
When I sit, letting gravity take me the last few feet.
Still don’t understand the concept of “influencers,” or, frankly, anything since 1974.
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When asked for an address, I give block-by-block verbal directions, figuring GPS won’t be enough.
Still going through withdrawal since switching from AOL email a month ago.
Repeat tedious jokes, like, when I turn lights on in the house, saying, “Look at this cool thing Thomas Edison invented.”
Starting to make 5:45 p.m. dinner reservations.
Convinced I’ve gotten taller, since it’s suddenly harder to pick things up.
When my sons grow beards, saying, “I gave you a nice face. Quit hiding it.”
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Get a weird amount of satisfaction hosing off my deck.
Same with staring at the spiffy new vent-turbine on my roof, though I’m not sure what it’s for.
Eight-year-old grand-niece has to show me how to use the touchscreen on the camera I've had for a year but she’d never seen before.
Can’t figure out where to find new series on TV.
Or where the music is suddenly coming from on my computer.
Kids haven’t listened to my voice messages in 10 years, but I still leave new ones.
Also, I take eight minutes to send super-long texts that they respond to hours later with a thumbs-up.
Have only used two TV remotes for years, but I don’t dare get rid of the other five.
Live in fear of having to replace printer cartridges.
After a sneeze, consider being checked out at the ER.
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When seeing a new building that's just been finished, saying, “They threw that one up pretty quick.”
Still tell my 30-something kids, “Be careful or you’ll spoil your dinner.”
Grumpy when Super Bowl halftime shows don't book The Stones.
Typical night is watching two hours of news with the volume too high, then toggling between movies like “The Godfather,” “The Terminator” and “Saving Private Ryan” until I pass out at 9:30.
Huge anxiety if someone sits in the dad-chair, even if I don’t need it at the moment.
Yelling for my kids to come quick, it’s an emergency, then asking for the remote on the coffee table.
When someone suggests an outing, saying, “Sounds too fun.”
Do talk-to-text in public, much too loudly.
Wear the same gray zip-up every day, to a point it has become my emotional support fleece.
Don't understand why my adult kids, when visiting, prefer going out with friends instead of staying home with dad.
Finally, cannot fathom why they don't believe I used to be cool.
mpatinki@providencejournal.com
This article originally appeared on The Providence Journal: Mark Patinkin: Do I act like a boomer? Let me count the ways
