So yes - we know it's mispelled. It's a clue, and a joke, and quite possibly a commentary on who we think we are and how we are bonded. I don't believe, and I'm sure my cohort will agree, that we are "wicked" neither in the Merriam-Websters sense nor in the contemporary vernacular that would gauge our "cool".
We know that as forty-somethings our last bit of cool is slipping away even as we are embracing some of the best years of our lives. It is slipping away and I don't think we care. Cool is relative though. Cool breezing down the road with the sunroof open and the mojo cd in (we're still making mix tapes just on i-tunes now) blaring Cake's "Let Me Go" and going just a little too fast. Cool new chair. Cool vacation. Cool haircuts. Cool boots. The occasional cool article of clothing. These are pieces of cool that we relish far more than we appreciated any cool we had in our youth. Fifteen years ago we were owed cool. My how the worm turns...
We're occasionally impressed with the stories we tell and the way in which we tell them. It might be the best kind of cool we have left. It isn't that our stories have gotten more interesting over time, it's that the sort of dryness and cutting humor that ages and cures with every little heart scar and every deepening fear and every leap of confidence and faith has made those stories so much more full and twisted that we enjoy them more.
Two defunct writers turned lawyer and accountant who learned to text at forty something could surely write a blog...Couldn't they?
Yes we know...
No comments:
Post a Comment