WHIPPERSNAPPERS!

Ah yes. . . the old tv shows.    The Real McCoys starring Walter Brennan.   He was the consumate old man. . . a geezer in many respects.   Pronounced limp, a cane, a crotchety attitude.  To him, young people were whippersnappers.

Now that I'm into my 7th decade,  I can see why older people might think that.  I'm still drawn to children. . in small doses.   I love nothing more than to find a kid to talk to.  It always thrilled me and it still does.  I'd rather have a spontaneous conversation with a little kid than just about anything.   But week 9 has been especially nice in that most of the kids are gone.   School is starting.  There is not the plethora of bicycles careening haphazardly through the streets, nor the screams of tantrums on the plaza, nor the cry of little ones during the lectures.    And I do like that.

But I have had a couple of run-ins with young people that were golden.     Take Mac.  He's my paper boy.  I don't know  how old he is, but I'm guessing 15 maybe.   Every single morning Mac has delivered my Chautauquan Daily. . . .my life-line to the day. . . to my front step.  It's sitting there when I get up in the morning.  In fact,  if it weren't for Mac I might be having to set an alarm.  But Mac, like most teenage boys,  negotiates his way through space with freakishly large feet.   And he tramps with them.  . much like the large Billy Goat Gruff tramping across the bridge.    So every morning, around 7:10,  I hear those footsteps coming.   Up the 4 steps onto the porch, inches from my head which is at the end of my bed just on the other side of the open window.   I hear Mac veer right to deliver Susan's paper.. . . .then TRAMP!  TRAMP!  TRAMP! he comes back around to my door, pausing only milli-seconds to drop my paper, then TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP! to Barb's door and then TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP! off the porch.  I'm up and ready for the day! 

There was one day around the end of week 4 when 7:30 arrived and no paper.    Around 7:45 a couple of girls came by, stopped to study the listing of customers, and then gently, and slowly, put the paper down.   They delivered the next morning as well, I believe.   I figured Mac must have been the carrier for the first half of the season only, and we would need to adjust to these new carriers. But before long Mac was back. . . .TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMPING his way back into my awareness.  On top of the paper the morning he returned was a little typed message introducing himself and saying he was sorry for missing a couple of days, but that he had broken his arm and was in the hospital.   For the rest of the summer, up until this past week, Mac has delivered the paper with one arm in a cast.     As I waited on the porch Friday to intercept him as he TRAMPED onto the porch so that I could give him a tip,   I realized what a responsible good kid he was.   He had just had the cast removed. . . but I have to say the lesser weight on his arm did not soften his steps.   I had come to expect and anticipate those steps, and I'm grateful for the role he played in my summer life.

Mac . . . NOT a WHIPPERSNAPPER!

Last night as I was sitting in the movie in my favorite place. . . front row center of the balcony. . two young girls scooted in front of me to sit farther down the row.   I would guess them to have been late teenagers.   They watched the movie, Beginners, while sitting next to me.    At the end of the movie, one of them turned to me and said,  "So, did you like the movie?"   I was kind of surprised that a young person would initiate a conversation with me.  Especially when she had a friend with her.   If that had been me and Joan we would have been biting the sides of our mouth to try to keep from laughing at what was no doubt the rude remarks we had made to each other about the old lady next to us.     Startled I replied,  "Yes, I did like it.   It wasn't what I expected from the previews, but it was a good movie."   And the girl continued,  "How was it different from what you expected?"    And so went the conversation.  She really seemed interested in what I had to say.   We chatted about the movie all the way down the stairs.  Not once did I catch her punching her friend behind my back.   As I took one path towards home and she took another, she called out and waved to me,   "Enjoy your evening!"

That girl. . . . NOT A WHIPPERSNAPPER!


It's Saturday afternoon. .   . .some of my bags are packed.   Patti on the shore of North Carolina has weathered the hurricane.   It's supposed to turn windy up here tomorrow,  as a matter of fact there is a breeze kicking up right now.   But that appears to be all the impact we'll have from Irene.

Nine weeks ago, we started the season with two performances of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.    We're ending tonight with two appearances of Bill Cosby.   I'll see the earlier one and then go to my 27th and last movie of the year.

One more full day left.   Full steam ahead.