After the recent big storm, I was in front of my house shoveling snow from the end of the driveway. A neighbor flew past on his latest “big boy toy” – a brand new, shiny, fully decked out, more impressive than anything I had seen in quite some time, very cool... snowmobile. Even at his great rate of speed, he undoubtedly saw the awe inspired expression which every guy gets when viewing the newest toy on the block. After about 100 yards or so, he made a quick fishtail spin and was heading back in my direction. Coming to a skidding stop in front of me, the usual pleasantries were exchanged, then the discussion of primordial new toy appreciation ensued. The talk was of horse power, speed, agility and of course the great business deal which secured this magnificent ride. For the ladies, I’m guessing this would be the equivalent of discussing the latest bobble you got for your anniversary in every excruciating detail. I think you know what I mean...
Anyway, after about 10 minutes of listening (and my being full of pure jealousy) with the push of a button, the snow machine was once again on its way. So there I was, left standing out in the cold with my shovel. It was a fairly big ego deflating moment. To make matters worse, I have yet to use my big boy toy this year which I would not only repair my ego, but allow me to take my rightful place in the neighborhood as one of the big boys on the block.
For the past few winters, one of the worst aspects of living in Weston has been that every time someone sneezed, the power would go out. So, with a championing foresight, I had a generator system installed. Ah, the hours I spent envisioning being the only house on the block with lights, music, heat and a working fridge stacked high with my favorite craft beer of the week. How I would be the envy of the neighborhood! How in anticipation of the Blizzard of 2013 I waited for the lights to flicker and the transfer switch to kick in signaling the brilliance of my foresight. But alas, it was not to be so. Apparently, Weston spent some serious money in the last year trimming trees away from the power lines. Sadly, my moment of triumph was not yet realized.
This got me to thinking. Being an adult is cool. Way better than being a kid. Better food, no enforced bedtime and our activities, not to mention our toys, are way better than they were when we were younger. Granted, 99% of adults seem to have never mentally graduated from kindergarten, but that’s the sociological and frustrating price we pay for the cool things we get to do and have as adults. After all, what is the point of having the coolest snowmobile on the block if you cannot show it off and garner at least a small amount of attention?
So when I look around at kids playing in the snow and I harken back to fond memories of my childhood, I often have to force myself to recall all of the baggage that went along with it. School, bullies, being told what to eat, wear and not to mention having most of my social schedule pre-planned (after school sports, piano lessons etc.). All in all, it was a pretty rigid schedule.
That’s why dear reader, why I am here to say that although we may look back on our youth as one of the best times in our lives, being an adult isn’t so bad. Yes, we have work, bullies, pre-planned social schedules (wife setting up dinners, business meetings to attend, etc.), at least today at least once in awhile we get to be the guy on the snowmobile. For me, it just makes it all seem worthwhile. That and being able to have a micro brewed beer whenever I want as well.
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Metro West Wines