This Next Generation Scares Me

This Next Generation Scares Me

Yes, I know I am an old fart, and all old farts think younger generations are spoiled, listen to bad music and don’t have good manners.  Yes, that has been true since forever, even writings of Greek philosophers warn of the deficiencies of the younger generation.

I don’t particularly like the rap music of today.  I don’t particularly like the butchering of the English language, or the creaky voice inflection of today’s youth.  It bothers me that young people do not even know how to safely cross the street.

I can let all these things slide because…Hell, what else can I do about it.

But.

Today on the beach I saw an event that really scares me about young people and how they are being raised.

I was on the beach and a young mother who weighed maybe 110 pounds was packing up her beach wagon.  Several chairs, two umbrellas, two boogie boards and assorted beach paraphernalia.  The wagon had tiny wheels which could only be dragged across the sand, not rolled.

This 110-pound lady was pulling this weighted down cart through about fifty yards of sand like one of those power lifting champions pulling a Boing 747 on a chain.  While she was dragging the beach stuff, her at least 12-year-old son who looked to weigh about 140 pounds was walking ahead disgusted that she was taking so long.  He carried nothing.  He didn’t help push and did not volunteer to help pull.  Her about 9-year-old daughter did carry a small beach bag, but still did not offer to help, what-so-ever…in fact she also seemed disgusted that mom was taking so long.

I wanted to wring these kids necks for not offering to help their tiny mom.  I wanted to ask the mother what in blazes was wrong with her that she would not demand her children help.

Instead, I just shook my head and ignored them.

I’m 72; not my problem.

Ospreys and Crows

Ospreys and Crows

I’m hanging on the beach on the beautiful Jersey Shore watching ospreys.  Ospreys, or sea eagles, are incredible fisherbirds.  They soar along the shore line and then out to sea and back looking for menhaden or small blue fish…actually any fish that they can spot and then reach with their talons.

It is difficult to tell when an osprey has caught a fish.  They turn it around in their talons for best wind resistance and it is hard to tell from the ground if they have a fish or not. 

I have pretty much figured out the tell-tail sign that the bird has grabbed a fish. 

If it is flying fast over the beach and heading to its nest on the bay, it has a fish.  I know this because the osprey will hunt until he has a catch.  He does not go home empty handed, so if he is headed home, you know he has dinner in his claws.

The other tell that the osprey has a catch, is he flies extra fast for his nest.  Over the ocean while searching, he wings slowly or glides with the wind currents saving energy.  I often wondered why, once the osprey has a fish, he races so quickly back to his nest.  Why does he still not try and conserve energy?

The other day I saw the reason why this king of the ocean sky races back to his nest.

Crows.

Crows will spot an osprey and try and make him drop his catch.  Oh, the osprey could kick the crows butt, he is bigger and faster, but to kick crow ass, he would have to drop his catch.  A catch that he may have spent several hours to spot and several attempts to grab.  The osprey is not willing to drop his catch to fight the crow, he would never recover the fish he worked so hard to catch.

I watched as the osprey rose high and then fell, changed directions left and right while a crow would not quit in its harassment.  I did not see who won this air battle, I like to think the osprey made it to his nest with dinner for his family.

It did make me think that the world outside of our human experience is not that different.  You can work your butt off, but still have to be concerned that some scumbag will try and steal from you, steal by overpowering you, steal by identity theft, steal by unfair taxing, steal by selling you bogus products.

The world is a tough place for both man and beast.  We all have our ospreys and we all have our crows. 

I guess the crows have their place, I guess they have a purpose, but I will always root for the osprey.  

Jersey Standoff

Jersey Standoff

Mrs. C and I are at our Jersey Shore summer rental.  Two bedrooms, a bath and a kitchen/main-room combo apt off the garage of the real house.  We are feet from the beach and it is a nice summer get-a-way.

"Get-a-way from what" you may ask, “You’re retired for crispy sake.”

OK, it is not a get-a-way, it is a change of venue…don’t be so picky.

And yes, I said I was done posting for a while…It's not like I collected presents and a gold watch at a goodbye party, maybe I can still post if I feel like it, just not every friggin day.

Anyway.

The other night I was watching nothing special on TV, while browsing the internet on a laptop from my comfy Archie Bunker chair, feet up on an ottoman.  The TV remote was also on the ottoman.  Mrs. C was sitting on a loveseat tapping away on her laptop.  We were both equidistant from reaching the ottoman sitting remote.

“Can you pass me the remote?”

“Why, I have to get up to reach it, you are just as close.”

“But it is on the ottoman that you are resting your feet.”

“Still, I have to move my feet and scootch up to reach the remote, you can reach it as well with the same effort.”

“Kick it to me then.”

With a slight back-footed flip, I sent the remote sliding three feet on the floor where Mrs. C could reach out and grab it.

Standoff resolved.

We may be a little lazy.