Adolescence

Stay Classic

Jeanna GLeave a comment

Last night I went to music bingo at a local brewery, and the final round was classic rock. I’d say 90% of the songs were from my childhood and adolescence. I stared at my board, slackjawed, and then exclaimed, “I’m classic?!” In other words, I’m old. 

I remember a time my mom was classifying her children’s senses of style; one was athletic, one trendy, and she looked at me, paused, and then labeled me classic. I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I was living in Connecticut at the time, so I was hoping she just meant preppy, and not stale. 

I work for a tech company now, and despite the world’s advances in technology, its failure is the cause of most of my team’s headaches. “Classic” is our go-to word for things going wrong at just the wrong time. Hearing the word classic had always conjured up images of cool things like cars and rock ‘n’ roll, but the word classic was starting to take on a negative connotation, and I didn’t like it. 

Last week I was watching a morning talk show that was highlighting a trending Reel on social media that had copied a scene from a Christmas movie that was made nearly 40 years ago. One of the hosts pointed out that the Reel is popular because that movie is still relevant. That one declaration helped me to restore my mindset; being classic doesn’t mean I’m old, it means I’m popular! *cue applause* So, you see, calling something classic doesn’t mean it’s old, stale, or broken, it means it’s timeless, relevant, and enduring.

As I begin planning for the new year, I resolve to stay classically classic.

But Did You Live?

Jeanna G2 Comments

I catered an event last night that was out in the middle of Nowhere, NC. When I pulled in, the owner met me on his UTV, and told me to follow him through the hayfield to the backside of the venue, and that’s where I could park. Going in was no problem. After the event and a massive downpour, in the dark with no escort, I started to think twice about driving through a field. And in that moment, I thanked God for being so dumb in high school.

Where I grew up, we got pretty creative with our party spots in order to keep them out of the police spotlight. Woods, cornfields, creeks, sandpits, the quarry, mountain tops, the end of an airstrip… Been there, done that. We also had to be pretty adventurous to be willing to try to get there, mindful of all possible exits in case we had to flee in a pinch, and imaginative with our excuses of how that mud got all over the tires and that dent got in the fender. It actually takes a lot of brain power to be dumb.

Thinking back on all the risks I took, it’s a wonder I’m not dead. I get a kick out of that line from Hangover when Chow asks, “But did you die?” Sitting in that field last night, I was grateful for my near-death experiences. I’m a lot less dumb at my current age, but more importantly, I know I can say “yes” when asked, “But did you live?”