It was an earlier era, a previous Age of Man, and slightly closer to the Dawn of Time when She and I graduated college.
We moved from Laramie, Wyoming, to Minneapolis, Minnesota. We had almost no savings, and no jobs. We moved into a little one-bedroom apartment about 8 blocks from the river and downtown. We were unafraid. Young, inexperienced, and unafraid.
We got jobs. It took some weeks, each just a little more anxious than the last. Anxious, not afraid, and certainly not panicked. We assumed everything would work out. And it did.
Like I said, a previous Age of Man.
We’re about to enter a new era. The Age of Covid is bringing us all under one roof for the first time in six years. She and I have been Empty Nesters for all six of those years…
*sigh*
All of us in this house. Jobs and prospects for financial independence are not what they were six months ago, so here we are.
I’m not sure what happens next.
My buddy Ernie recently recounted to me a discussion he had with his older son, who is about to start college. He told his son that it was ok that he didn’t know what will happen. None of us do, because all of this is weird. We have no tales, fables, or parables to use to illustrate that our kids’ lives are safe and predictable. We just don’t know. At 22 and 24, I didn’t have to wear a mask to work. I didn’t have to hold on to two jobs, one of which I didn’t like but couldn’t quit because it was deemed “essential”. I didn’t see unemployment triple halfway through my last semester of college, or get letters telling me the job I had was being rescinded due to a crashing and unpredictable economy. It’s all so weird.
Here’s what I do know: It’s ok for my kids to be angry. It’s a diffused anger, born out of disappointment and anguish. And it’s ok for them to feel that way. I know so, because I’m angry too. I’ve yelled my rage inside the drum of my skull. They did what they were supposed to do, and their reward is this shit. They should be a little angry.
I know that they can’t rely on tomorrow, because tomorrow is just vapor. They can only deal with what they can see. I know that one thing they can do is make today pay for tomorrow’s wishy-washy bullshit. Do the most they can today.
I know that they’ll be ok, just as I know it probably won’t be in the way they expect. That’s just not that helpful right now. Hell, every time I say, “it’ll all be ok”, I feel my own eyes rolling. But still, it’ll all be ok.
And I know that in a few weeks time, when the dust has settled and we’ve moved the last of us into the No Longer Space For A Guest Room, that we’ll sit at this table for dinner. We’ll play some cards, drink some beers, have a laugh, and slowly get sick of looking at each others’ dumb faces.
It’ll be awesome. I’m pretty sure.
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