I have noticed recently that I don’t care as much as I used to about what strangers think of me. I am ordinarily socially conscious and this aberrant behavior is a puzzle. I still scope a room and notice the solitary person in the corner and gravitate towards them, or rescue someone who makes a faux pas while speaking.
Yet in other situations, I don’t seem to care if I am a little inappropriate. For instance, I use whistling as a deterrent to others’ cell phone conversations . . . have you noticed if you are on the phone and someone whistles nearby, you can not hear the person on the other end? I will whistle while “Britney” chats on her cell phone and places her grocery cart in front of the onion bagels I have been scouring the aisles for. (“Singin' In the Rain" is my favorite cell phone buster!)
Whistling is also effective in the locker room where I am then motivated by jealousy: “If I can’t get reception, why should you?” Don’t you believe the statement: “Verizon, We’ve got you covered” . . . they don’t . . . even if a huge Customer Service facility is a half-block away.
Perhaps I don’t care anymore because I am older than most of the people surrounding me for the first time in my life. I stack up pretty well. I am sure that the younger people say to themselves, much as I did long ago, “I’ll never let myself go like that!” Well Britney, someday you may be lucky enough to reach my age and you will understand that the scars and blemishes mean you are still on this earth.
We all age; it’s how we handle it that makes the difference. Me? I will be singin' and dancin' in the rain.