My nieces remind me though. They’re 9 and 14. They tell me my pants are too tight. We all find Gucci Mane entertaining but they look at me with disgust when I don’t know who “Wacka Flocka” is. I blast N.E.R.D driving down Bailey ave. They hide their faces in shame.
My nephew reminds me. He’s 19. I play Mos Def or Nas in the car on the way to the library with him. He says Nas fell off and I listen to “old school” music. I forget he was born in 1990. 1990! I was watching Scott Norwood blow it while he was 1 month into gestation.
But as much as I want to force feed my grandpa ways into their brains, I can’t. And I shouldn’t. It’s 10 years into the millenium and before I get caught up talking about what “these kids” do or don’t do, I should listen. They need wisdom but I need a fresh perspective.
I remember my uncle being rigid enough to demand respect but cool enough to listen. I got in his minivan once (he was still a 30 something dad and would lament, “I can’t look cool in this thing!”) and he was playing Ahmad’s Back in the Day. Shocked, I said “Uncle Lou YOU listen to rap?” He smiled slyly. “I like this song. You’ll understand when you get older.”
insightful.