Rant for the Aged

Sometimes I'm embarrassed to be an adult. Tonight was one of those nights.

I was sitting in the bleachers at Dillon's wrestling meet, minding my own business... actually, I was reading. Is that rude? It's just that I don't have the faintest glimmer of interest in the sport unless it's Dillon out there on the mat. Before November I had never been to a wrestling meet in my life and I don't have the slightest idea how it all works - the scoring and the pinning and the timing. For example, tonight I thought D was kicking some serious ass out there. He was on top most of the time, was throwing that guy around like a Raggedy Ann, and even made him bleed - yet he lost. I just can't make heads or tails of it and quickly get the glazed-over eyes and then can't stop thinking about how badly my butt is killing me. So I figure if I have to be sitting there for 3 1/2 hours, only 5 minutes of which he is wrestling, then I might as well be amusing myself. I mean really, it could be worse than a book, eh?

So.......... There I am, minding my own business when my peace is assaulted by the Dad sitting behind me suffering from an inexcusable case of Assholeyness. When there wasn't a new pair of wrestlers out on the mat quickly enough, he hollered, "Come on! Let's get someone out there!" "What are you waiting for?" "Hey! Why isn't everyone ready?" and then, when the kids were wrestling, "What are you doing?" "Who taught them that?" and my personal favorite, "Come on! Do something!"

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. Who died and made him Oh Exalted Ruler of the Wrestling Meet? So after the last particularly obnoxious opinion-spewage, I gathered up my book and my camera and my coat and my water, and as I stepped down off the bleachers, I looked behind me to see how the Supreme Being of the Meet appears to mere mortals, and it was a Grandpa. A Grandpa. Not a Dad. Can you imagine the sheer volume of excrement that has gushed out of his mouth since the mid 70's? He's probably irritated a lenghy trail of spectators and participants during the past 30-ish years. And I'm guessing that was his son, the Wrestling-Dad, sitting right next to him, who gave me a sheepish look as I gave them the Stink-Eye.

I am torn between disgust at the Dad for letting the Grandpa be so socially inappropriate and pity for what must have been a horribly humiliating childhood.

But mostly, I'm indignant over his behavior. It's adults like that who make teenagers look at us and think that we all suck. I guarantee there was not ONE kid in that gym tonight that would have thought, "Gee, Grandpa, thanks for pointing out all those shortcomings to us. It will help us grow to be successful and happy!" Whenever I see adults being such assholes I just think, "WHY?" Don't they remember being a kid with zero rights and having some bastard adult be completely unreasonable or mean and just by virtue of their being an "adult", there was Nothing you could do or say?

I don't know how you could forget that. I remember clearly the teachers I loved, but I remember just as clearly those I hated for being so inexcusably mean... Mrs. Brown, 4th grade. Mrs. Stout, 7th grade science. The old biddies made their mark on me, but not the one I'm sure they intended when they chose teaching as a profession.

Adults need to check themselves when interacting with kids, whether 8 months or 18 years. They make more of an impression than they realize and children have a very, very long memory.