Near the entrance, we walked past a parked car that stood out because of several provocative stickers on the back window: middle fingers, outlines of naked women, stuff like that. But the one that stood out the most was a large sticker featuring a full sentence, a dozen words long.
The sentence was a sexual joke so vulgar that it was disturbing. I actually had to think for a moment before I was sure I understood it, then hoped my son would not be curious enough to ask what it meant.
It wasn't the kind of joke that you knew not to laugh at, even though you could see the humor in it; it was the kind of joke that made you think, "Who would ever say that?"; "What company would ever print that on a bumper sticker?"; "Who on earth would find that joke so special as to deserve such rare real estate?"
And, ultimately, "Who is this pervert?"
The word that came to my mind was "immaturity". That's the only explanation for why anyone would decorate their car with this mess.
My son and I got to the entrance of the store, realized I had left my wallet in our car, walked back past the perv-mobile, got my wallet from our car, then returned for one last pass by this vehicle. This time, however, the driver of the car was there, stowing his purchase in his trunk, and walking around to the drivers'-side door.
I have to admit, I had pictured a few possible profiles for this person:
*Male (Of course, right?)
*Maybe a dude just barely old enough to be on his own, but carrying too much of adolescence into his early 20's?
*Maybe a smarmy, leering thirty-something, offering Sandra Bullock tickets to the Ice Capades in While You Were Sleeping?
*Maybe just a flat-out, middle-aged creepo?
Imagine my surprise when I actually saw him, an elderly, tottering man, wearing a windsuit, socks and slippers, gray-white hair combed back like he was stylin' in the 50's. I caught a glimpse of the side of his pointed face, and his eyes seemed to possess vitality in spite of his stooped posture and stiff gait, not an empty shell dribbling out the clock till death. Kind of reminded me of Mr. Burns from The Simpsons.
And so, the internal dialogue began:
*What?!?
*Is this his car?
*Surely this is someone else's car, right? And this poor old man is having to borrow it?
*But one of the window stickers admonishes all passengers never to eat, drink, or apply makeup while cruising in the perv-mobile, so would someone this particular about their passengers ever lend their car out to someone else?
*And, yes, this guy is ancient, but he is obviously driving on his own...so...forgive the generalization, but don't most elderly people who don't have their own cars just get rides from other people?
*I don't know...seems like this really could be his car...
*And, even if it isn't his car, is this seriously his only option for transportation? Has he not thought through the impression this vehicle will make on most who see it, and what they might think of him?
Again, guarding against the chance that this could all be some huge misinterpretation: How ironic that a behavior whose most critical fuel is immaturity would be modeled by someone old enough to have great-granchildren.
**********************************************
What assumptions do we tend to make about old age?
Wisdom? Perspective? Maturity? Grace?
Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self-Control?
Sure, there is a common stereotype of the grumpy old person (Pixar's Up, or James Earl Jones in The Sandlot), but this stereotype is often paired with the origin story of the old person's bitterness, followed by a restoration of Grandpa/Grandma's happy spirit once the wound is acknowledged. There is also the occasional, outlying portrayal of a raunchy senior citizen (a Bad Grandpa, Bad Santa type of thing), but the fact that this portrayal is meant as ironic comedy shows how out of step it is from our real expectations of our elders.
In general, we assume elderly people have moved past the follies of youth, the ambitions of young adulthood, the crossroads of middle age, every fleshly passion, and the many victories and disappointments along the way, to arrive at a place of perspective and peace, overflowing with hard-earned, homespun wisdom, able to unravel life's dilemmas with thoughtful reflection, and not in a hurry about anything.
At least, that's what I assume...and what I want for myself, if I get to grow old in this life.
Which is why this old man in the Home Depot parking lot was so startling to me.
Who in the world would grow up to become an old perv?
Well....maybe a young perv?
**********************************************
Who would grow up to be an immature old person?
A hateful old person?
A hot-headed old person?
A judgmental old person?
A selfish old person?
A greedy old person?
A lazy old person?
A racist old person?
A faithless old person?
Is it possible that, apart from prayer, apart from any decision, apart from any repentance, apart from any pursuit, apart from any discipline, apart from any accountability, our elderly versions of ourselves could be little more than slower, less-filtered versions of our younger selves?
Could it be that we're all going to remain what we are, until we decide something has to change?
Might it help us, as we consider our vices, to imagine how they will look on us when we are old?
No comments:
Post a Comment