This weekend three generations spanning sixty years converged. An evening gathering. I sat, and listened as an aunt, and a daughter. Though old enough to be so, I am not a mother. My daughter's eyes were clarified. No one may defy age forever. My head knows this truth. My daughter's eyes saw what the youngest in our gathering did not see--did not want to see or hear of his elders.
Though I have been blessed with a strong bond with my nephews, life circumstances do not give me the vehicle necessary to convey the importance of working. I am a poor example to my nephews of the commitment to the less glamorous parts of life--the substance of the working life. Rarely am I speechless. Rarely am I at a loss for how to communicate what needs to be said in a gentle, but diplomatic manner.
I recognize the fallacy of the question, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" Yet, there must be some such question that is not laden with condescension, and implications of disrespect. What is the question? I believe myself to be an open-minded person, who strives to avoid the pitfalls of being judgmental. Yet, I am frightened by the cluelessness I am witnessing. Is what I am experiencing just my time for what all "older generations" of youth experience?
I guess if I am questioning what the proper question of those younger than I, then I should hardly expect to have any answers. So, I ponder.
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