For us old broads and geezers: We remember a time when the Gun War was not the norm, when evenings were lit by sunsets to dazzle eyes and hearts, not by the tiny flickers of vigil/protest candles clustering in the streets, when tears blur the lights and hearts are broken. We are still shocked by violence, never taking it for granted. We remember times of quiet, of contemplation, of attention free of cell phones, of constant connection, interruption, demand… We remember when conversations were spoken instead of typed, and when the rudiments of grammar, spelling, and punctuation were known and applied when we did indulge in the sensory gratification of the actual writing of an actual letter… We remember and sometimes miss things the Millennials have never known, really known, were ever a thing. And that’s why they think we are crazy: irrelevent out of step, out of the flow. They know only the rapids of life, never the quiet, meandering flow or the peace of the river moving along straight and quiet.
You foolish children, we are not crazy old broads and geezers: We are your Elders, and we know things. We don’t know your things, maybe, but we know things you will be needing as you make your way to this same old place, things you don’t yet imagine you need to know. We have the stories of where you began, where you came from. We have the memories of when we were not afraid of the things you fear now: We had other things to fear, but we also have the memories of surviving those things, out-lasting them, of out-lasting the fear. We remember when leaders led, and when law-makers compromised and knew something of respect for each other and for us whom they serve. We know values and beauties that are not of your world, not lately, not for a while, and maybe not for some time to come.
So, here we sit in our rockers in the shade, and we knit sweaters you will be embarrassed to wear, and we hold the wealth of our worlds, and we wait for the young who are wise enough to come and ask, to be quiet, to listen…