Out Da Way

As my legal career wanes, I have picked up a new, unpaid job: dog courier. D1 lives with the spoiled granddog Madeleine on Brickell, and on Tuesdays she (D1, not the dog) has 12 hours of classes at FIU. So, Wifey and I fetch the dog, usually Sunday or Monday, and keep her at our house, and then return her Wednesday.

Last Wednesday, I volunteered to drop off the Pup on my way to the office. I pulled into a spot next to D1's building, and decided to walk the dog before leaving her in D1' apartment.

She lives in a 2 building highrise. I think the oldest resident is 30. They all appear to be either graduate students, or young professionals.

They walked their dogs or young babies in strollers. A thought came to me: I'm not yet 50, and already largely irrelevant!

I've married, and had the Ds, and am in the waning years of my professional life.

And, if I'm irrelevant, how absurd is my mother's generation??!!!

I contrasted D1's building to the "retirement village" where my mother lives. It was striking. The future versus the past.

I know it's contrary to all teachings about venerating one's elders, but my mother's generation consumes. D1's produces, or is in the process of gaining to the tools to produce.

And it's a wonder to behold: the energy and optimism of their generation.

I realize my daughter's generation has their share of slugs, and living where she does attracts yuppies and strivers. But they're on the make --on their way up, even in an awful economy.

We older folks need to get out da way...