It Feels Good to Feel Good

Last night I hung out, clubbing with some friends. Yes, that’s right, last night: hump night, middle of the week night, and I’m supposed to get up the next morning for work night. And at my age, too. Oh, my. What will all the Responsible Aged of America think? Who cares? I won’t crash until tonight. I’ll make it through the day. (I hope, I hope, I hope . . .)

Anyway, my sister friend spotted a friendly bunch of kids who just arrived, and wondered if they were around her daughter’s age, 15. I mentioned my reaction to attending a summer session with an auditorium full of college kids. They were like the fresh crunch of autumn-ripe Delicious apples, the soft whisper-brush of fluttering snowflakes, the fleshy blush of sun-warmed peaches . . . they were disgustingly young! No way could those babies be leading the world of commerce, education, science, art – anything – in just a few months. I felt ancient.

At the club, we pulled one of the young ladies aside, asked her if this was their regular gathering place. It seems she was older – probably all of 23 – and was bringing a group of City College drama/theatrical/musical students to see a song artist’s performance. She thanked me for thinking she was as “young” as her fledging student artists. My response: “Hey, I didn’t ask, don’t you tell.” We laughed, and kidded around a bit.

Then it dawned on me: I’m a City College alumnus! Got so caught up in the difference in our ages, almost lost the connection in our spirits. When I told her, she was so excited and began introducing me to each student. We were on -- and I was in!

Tell me I wasn’t also glad that I was sporting my slamming Matthews hat. At their ages, I wouldn’t have been able to afford it; at my age, I could buy my “inside” ticket to cool, add the sweet honey to slide into their thoughts of: “That’s who I want to be when I grow up.”

It felt good. They asked for my card to invite me to their performances. I hope they do. I hope I go. I like feeling good. Who doesn’t?