The Ambiguities of Maturity
Since I’m on a roll with this first person thing, here’s another: Since my wife and I are not old enough to get a flu shot due to the shortage, my wife — always looking out for my health — says at dinner, “One way to minimize getting the flu is to take a daily multi-vitamin.” “O.K.,” I respond, “good idea.” She indicates where the multi-vitamins are. I get up. I say, “Sweetie, there are two bottles of multi-vitamins and both are pretty full. Which one is it?” She says, “It’s obvious which one you’re supposed to take.” (My wife is notoriously bad at giving instructions, although she’s very good at taking them, which makes up for everything.)
So I inspect both bottles, but they have identical labels. I’m puzzled. I finally see that one says “Mature Adults.” So I figure the other one is for the kids. I take one from the “Mature Adults” bottle, and down it.
Then I say, “Why does it say ‘Mature Adults’? Isn’t ‘Adults’ sufficient?” I’m advised that “Mature” is a euphemism for old.
So I throw out a one-liner, “I’m so relieved that I’m no longer immature.” No one laughs. I’m thinking to myself, why is everyone so sour tonight? But I don’t really want to inspect the emotional state of the family — something we men try to avoid.
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One of our more enjoyable tasks this year was reading and tabulating the responses to…
Shave and a Haircut, No Way!... Sensitive Issue... By Zeus!... Immitation of Christ?... Transbrothahs Unite!... Blasphemous Underwear?... Papal Ghetto... Nixing the 'X'... Won't You Be My Neighbor?
The Latin Mass is an immersion in mystery and an intricate recognition of my own subordination as simple creature before simple Creator.