What “really” matters? It depends . . .

We men go through many stages in our lives.  I am currently in the “I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks” stage.  Now before you go jumping to some nasty conclusion, let me explain.  When you’re a teenager, your whole world revolves around what the opposite sex thinks about you.  Everything you wear, eat, do, etc., is predicated upon what effect it will have on the object of your desire.  I confess to being woefully inadequate in my youthful attempts at being cool.

As married men, we “recalculate,” much like our GPS devices, and center our lives around our wives and children.  Everything we do is focused on making life better for “the family.” About the same time, we fall prey to peer pressure.  Not only must we make things as good  as possible for our loved ones, we must keep up with the proverbial Joneses.  We need to drive the right car, live in the best neighborhood, and hopefully send our kids to the best schools we can.

Then comes “empty nesting.”  At last we can focus entirely on what makes us happy, oblivious to the wants and needs of our adult children (most of whom are doing a heck of a lot better than we are).  It’s time for “us.”  Vacations become more about where we’ve never been but always wanted to go, and the movies we watch are more geared to our intellect than to an arbitrary standard set for our children by society.

Finally, as we join the ranks of senior citizenry and AARP, we enter the final phase of our lives.  If we’re lucky we are blessed with a grandchild or two.  We can enjoy them for a few hours or days at a time, but they’re not our responsiblility.  What could be better than that?  No longer do we care what car we drive.  All that counts is that it’s paid for and has GPS.  Our clothing reflects our mood less than it does a fashion statement.  Our lawn sprouts a weed or two, and there are almost as many leaves on the ground come spring as there were when fall caused them to drop from the trees.  And we couldn’t care less.

And that brings me to the raison d’être for writing this piece.  A few minutes ago, Becky informed me that a package had come.  “Did you order anything?” she asked innocently.  I scratched my head and thought for a minute.  Then it hit me.  With a note of excitement in my voice I replied, “It might be my new electric razor!”  I was ecstatic.  “But it’s too small,” Becky said as she handed the package to me.  “Oh,” my disappoinment obvious, “I guess it’s just the extra blade I ordered with it.”  Sure enough, it was.  Bummer.  And then, my voice swelled with optimism, and I said, “Maybe the razor will come tomorrow.  Yee ha!”

There you have it, friends and neighbors, I have finally reached that stage in life at which the most meaningful thing happening is waiting for my new electric razor to be delivered—and actually looking forward to it.


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About AuthorJoePerroneJr

I am a former professional fly-fishing guide, and I write the Matt Davis Mystery Series, which presently consists of four books: As the Twig is Bent, Opening Day, Twice Bitten, and Broken Promises. The series is set in the real town of Roscoe, NY, in the Catskill Mountains, where I guided for ten years. I love fly fishing, movies, cooking (and eating), and music. To learn more about me and my writing, please visit my website at: http://www.joeperronejr.com.
This entry was posted in Humor, Waxing Philosophically and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to What “really” matters? It depends . . .

  1. Becky Perrone - YOUR WIFE!!! lol says:

    Hmmm… Back to the old pony-tail threat, are we. As we say back in NJ, “Fuh-get about it!”
    Kiss, kiss…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. balroop2013 says:

    Thanks for making me smile at your ‘looking forward to!!’ 🙂 Your sense of humor is still young!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Glenda Beall says:

    The perks of ageing – I don’t care what people think.
    When I moved to this rural area in the mountains, I didn’t find the Fashion Police or friends who chose me because of the house I lived in or the décor. I was middle aged. Today, I dress for comfort and my house is set up for my comfort. I have no one who is going to judge me and tell me I should do this or do that, even though some younger women have suggested what kind of furniture I need or what I should discard. I just thank them and ignore them. It has to be my decision and what I like or need. I just wish I had know this when I was young and tried to tell my mother what to do. Good post, Joe.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Allie P. says:

    One of my best friends regularly jokes about how he can’t wait to reach the age when it is socially acceptable to not care anymore.

    I don’t blame you about getting excited about the razor. I’m excited about anything arriving in my mailbox that isn’t a bill or ad.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. You make me giggle, Joe! What is important to me, now that I am in my 70’s, is to take my morning walk, stay active with my singing trio, but mostly be prepared and ready to help others as God may bring them to me. Just finished volunteering to push a 78 year old with dementia around the mall, looking at everything in windows and seeing her heart’s ability to love still within her. She went with God on Christmas Eve morning, reflecting that love is why we are all here. And yes, it is time for my morning walk! Look to the sky, be grateful for all the love that accompanies every new activity, including getting packages in the mail. A lamp I ordered is coming in the mail today. Ah, will I be able to figure out how to put it together? That is my wonderment for this day! Smiles!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. delphini510 says:

    Maybe grow a beard and have a pony tail ? Too many musts kills the spirit.
    Or start a new career – just for fun.

    Liked by 1 person

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