Everything's Coming Up Rosen
Emily’s been writing a column, essays, travel stories, profiles, features for over 20 years. Her work is available for syndication and reprint.
THE OTHER TABLE
By Emily Rosen
Sometimes you just need to sit at another table . For years I zoomed like a homing pigeon to the same table for our after-meeting lunch klatch, a supervisory meeting at the Mental Health agency where I volunteer. But last week, I was attacked by a tinge of “what else is there?” So I dumped my pocketbook on an empty table in this very trustworthy environment. When I returned from the buffet line , the remaining seven seats had been taken by our young student trainees all of whom were deep into conversation.
There I was, Grandma Me feeling invisible, surrounded by youth deep into their own lingo. So much for pushing boundaries, I thought. I ate in silence, stuck in the middle of the table with cross conversations taking place, reluctant to push my way into either. I stretched longingly to view my old table, noting that my cronies looked so comfortable in their discussion mode.
Then I heard “Bob” talk about the Alzheimer’s group to which he was assigned as a leader. “I love working with them. You’d be amazed at how they perk up in group and tell wonderful stories about their past lives. Their long term memory is still with them.”
I smiled, admiringly, “Wow! It’s so rare that I hear young people wanting to have anything to do with the older generation.” I said.
“Are you kidding?” Bob, in his early twenties, shot back. “I love talking to older people. I learn so much from them and about other times. And in my culture –( Puerto Rico )-- we are surrounded by older people. I’m always at my Grandmother’s house—me and my cousins.”
“Me too,” echoed his seat companion, “Fred,” an older guy, about 30.
“My family came here from Cuba and we all live very close to each other,” and he used the table as a map of Miami, to point out, “My parents live here, my wife and I here, my brother here,” and his hand hopped about in staccato motion to show where his various other siblings and cousins lived.
I was feeling bereft thinking about my distant family, as Fred proceeded to talk about his elders and his close family ties.
“Before I accepted this internship, “ he continued, “we held a family meeting where everyone offered advice and suggestions and that actually helped me in my decision.”
Bob added, “I go to my Grandmother’s house almost every day. She’s a hoot.”
I’m wondering how much of a hoot I am to my 15 year old granddaughter who can’t bear to divert her eyes from her qwerty cell phone as they direct her fingers in their everlasting text-mode. And almost as if he could read my mind, Bob assured me, “But, hey, sometimes it’s smothering to have family so close and monitoring your every breathe. Although .. “ His voice trailed as he seemed to be evaluating an entire seismic shift in cultural patterns.
I’m thinking of making this my permanent after-meeting table. We have lots more to share, and I noticed that they keep their cell phones out of sight.
Previous Articles by Emily
A Two-fer in February - February 2010
BYE BYE 2009 AND THE WHOLE DAMN DECADE - December 19, 2009
Crashes - December 1, 2009
I'm Glad I'm Not President - November 2009
The Culture of Corruption - October 2009
Bye Bye Newspapers!!! - October 2009
Naked In Alaska - September 2009
Tweet Tweet, My Sweet - August 2009
The Quote Of The Century - August 2009
The Ying and Yang of Kids Today - July 2009
Hugs Are In - June 2009
Gloom and Doom - May 2009
The "Shh" Disease - April 2009
