I was never one of the cool kids in grade school. My mother made certain that we lived in a good neighborhood with good schools, but we never had much money left over after the basics. I rarely had the latest clothes or shoes. My red hair already made fitting in with the cool kids that much harder, so without the hip fashion, I spent my academic years as one of the smart kids, instead.
I’m not complaining. I’ve achieved enough through my intelligence that I can now afford all of those hip fashions, if I want. But I’m not complaining because, as much now as then, I don’t want those finer things. I’m content with t-shirts, shorts, and a pair of Chucks. It might be hip, I don’t know, but the whole bit costs maybe $60. Living in the D.C. area, I know people who spend more than that on their left sleeve. It’s insanity. Happily, because I’m still the old man I was at thirteen, I don’t feel bad about it. I think I’m adjusted enough to just accept that people are different, with different tastes, wants, and needs. Yay, me!
So why am I so pleased when I see one of the fashionable cool kids in D.C. getting into his Saturn?