Hey, are you Dan’s father?”

In the elevator at the hotel where we are staying for three days I kibbitz with the other passenger about elevator operators. “We’re old enough to remember those days,” they joke.

This other passenger is demonstrably older than me; not my parents’ age, but surely not my age either? But I am greeted as kin.

And I do remember those days.

I’m in the colourful livingroom of a friend where an evening of loud electronic music is about to begin. The demonstrably younger person sitting beside me leans over: “Hey, are you Dan’s father?”

I’m not.

But how did they know I was anyone’s father. Do I look old enough to be someone’s father? What’s my tell? Receding hairline? Style from the 1950s? Unsmooth skin? A withered gait? A careless Dick Van Dyke Show reference?

On balance I have always loved getting older. But inflection points, man.


Juliane's picture
Juliane on December 14, 2018 - 11:31 Permalink


Olle Jonsson's picture
Olle Jonsson on December 17, 2018 - 17:49 Permalink

V. good commentary here, of late.