Sometimes a symbol for the age saunters right past your face. I was growing older in one of those maxi-mart gas stations today when I noticed a 20-something teen entering the premises behind me. He had an air of languid insouciance that placed him at one of society’s two leisure poles. Whether his was the pole of indolent wealth or welfare I can only speculate–with reasonable accuracy.
Regardless, he first meandered to the potato chip lane and made his selection after a brief but conscientious review. He then strolled to the refrigerated soft-drinks and just as decisively chose his poison.
What happened next left me chuckling with the warm assurance of a man wearing a well-validated worldview. With chips and drink in hand, and a gait of assured nonchalance, he simply walked right out the front door. I lost sight at that point, but like to imagine he sprang to…
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