“…the best part is that someone will always call you ‘young.’ You just might have to keep finding older and older people to do it.”
Back in 2009 I was known as “The Guy Who Runs Downtown With Boxes.” That’s not totally true. No one called me that. I called myself that. For a week. I bought some children’s items from Wal-Mart’s online site. They were cheap enough that I listed them on eBay in hopes of making a small profit. As the items–that’s what they were to me, just “items,” if I let myself become emotionally connected, I’d start calling them “toys” then “awesome toys” then I’d probably keep them for myself–as they sold, I brought them to a nearby UPS store. And why walk to the store when I could run? Cut my travel time in half, really. I never thought I’d be that guy you see running around in jeans and a collared shirt, but there I went weaving through the crowds in downtown Nashville.
Kids see me and say, “Who’s that man running with a box?”
Older people see me and say, “Kids these days.”
I love old people. They make me feel young, and at the same time, they make me want to be old like them.