Isn’t life full of irony? With age comes wisdom, yet the older you get, your vast array of wisdom ends up sitting as idle and forgotten on a shelf as a dusty trophy from grade school.
Oh, my kids still ask me for advice, but how many times do they actually take it? “Don’t buy that car,” I said, ” it will test your faith.” I might as well have gone to Vegas and blown $2000 dollars at the black jack table. Either way, this game is rigged.
When did the newest generation think seeking advice from parents is for sissy’s?
Next time you ask me if I gamble, I’m going to say, “every time my child wants my advice!”
Recently some acquaintance told my wife, “Your husband is so wise.” I didn’t know whether that assessment should be shared with my offspring or I should be targeted as a fraud. The more I think I know, I develop the same fear one gets when they walk into a college class for a pop quiz and you haven’t the foggiest idea what the subject matter is.
Sometimes though wearing a tie can make you appear smarter but I’ve learned a valuable lesson when I do this. Whatever you do, don’t wear a shirt and tie when you go into Walmart or Kmart; people think you work there. From sporting goods to lingerie, I’m asked my opinion on everything based solely in my vestment of choice, a tie.
This is how my shopping experience goes when I wear a tie, “Excuse me sir, can you recommend a fishing pole.” “Certainly, Issac Kowolsky.”They just stand and stare at me.
I need some dog food, what do you recommend? “Turnip greens.” Surprised they gasp, “Turnip greens? My dog would never eat turnip greens.” I tell them, “mine didn’t for a month.”
I suppose I could go into Walmart with saggy pants and my ball cap on sideways with an anti-establishment t-shirt. Except if I did that, every kid would be asking my opinion on video games.
No, if this is my lot in life, give me the gray wig and the scooter and follow me to the “Fast Relief” section of the store. You can find me answering questions on bunion pads.