Youth

Usually at this time of the year, I get a little down. The dry air makes my skin a little tighter and the wrinkles more pronounced. I feel like a tom tom tuned too tightly. Some say beauty is wasted on the youth. I take a more Freudian view. I think as we get older, some of us internalize youthful vigor. For example, my friend Richard, newly minted at fifty, loses twenty years when his inner-child is loosened upon the world by a magic key called a Hendrick's Martini. Or, last Saturday, Richard transformed into little Dickie (his childhood nickname) when he shared his garden vegetables (which are still growing in January) with us for dinner. Now look at that face. Doesn't Dickie looks like he's presenting his veggies at show and tell or a local 4-H contest?

Having kids to compare my inner-youth meter is helpful though not always accurate. Sometimes I get too goofy. "Let's watch all the Star Wars movies today...," I say, expecting immediate applause and the Bill Cosby chant "Dad is Great..." Instead I get: "Don't you think that would be too much T.V." Party poopers...

Youth