THE TRANSFORMATION

It was so subtle at first that I can’t really pinpoint when it happened. I’d felt the transformation occurring slowly over the past few months. There were noticeable things that I ignored on purpose just so that I wouldn’t have to think about what was happening.

Then, sometime this morning it hit me in the face. Much in the same way that stepping on an upside down garden hoe will bring the handle up quickly and smash you right in your nutsack.

This NEVER happens to girls because they’re smart enough not to leave garden implements on the ground in the first place (plus the fact that they don’t have a nutsack to injure). Conversely, this ALWAYS happens to guys because we never think to check the lawn before we start walking on it. So you see, this doesn’t just happen in Adam Sandler movies.

But I digress. I’m talking about, of course, the instant I realized that I became my dad. I don’t know if every guy goes through this; if so, is this the warm-up act for menopause?

The cold, hard facts about the transformation happened to me today at work. A co-worker asked me whether I texted or not. I told her no. She then pointed out that I had a cell phone, that I was now on Facebook and that the logical connection between the two would be to learn texting.

“My fingers are too big to text”, I argued.

“No, you use your thumbs to text”, she countered.

“Ok, my thumbs are too big to text”, I put forth.

“Oh, you’re just too stubborn to learn”, she opined.

“By George, I think you’ve got it!” came my witty retort.

At this moment, I knew that I was at about 17% away from completely being my dad.
Pop wasn’t keen on computers and gadgets and such. Now that I’m reaching an age where I could have adult children (if I had had children), the new millennium is leaving me in the dust, a virtual techno-moron. But something makes me resist completely giving in to it. Could be that it’s because I’m a product of the 1960s.

I suppose that the only thing left, really, for me to go through to complete the transformation is to sit back in a recliner, eating sardines while watching the news. There’s a better than even chance that this won’t happen, mostly because I detest eating anything which smells that bad and/or is looking back up at me from a can. Gotta draw the line somewhere.

Perhaps I’ve just about reached the end of this particular personal odyssey.