Where’s my sash?

Last night, I took five teenage boys to the Franklin Graham Festival at the Tacoma Dome.  They appeared to have a great time.  When the band, “Starfield” invited the young and young at heart to come down and stand on the floor in front of the stage, three of the five boys hurried down.

I watched from my plastic seat, ever so grateful for the lyrics that appeared on three screens above the stage.

That is how I knew that I am old.  I did not jump.  I did not dance.  Instead, I was just thrilled that I could understand the words, thanks to the visual cues.

Afterwards, I allowed three teenage boys to spend the night at my house.

That is why I deserve a tiara and a sash.  And, perhaps, a new Volkswagen Beetle.

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Where’s my sash?

3 thoughts on “Where’s my sash?

  1. Lisa Burns says:

    okay, that’s it! I MUST intervene soon…I can’t have anymore of the “That is how I knew that I am old” talk…You are NOT old. What you are is FREE for the first time in your life to be…whatever you want! There are no unspoken rules when over 40…why? Because we have spent the past 30+ years of our lives caring what everybody thought we were and that dictated what we should be. Now, we just don’t give a damn! I say you deserve the tiara, sash, volkswagen beetle and a crazy girls night out to any loud concert we can find…we will wear low-rise, flair bottom jeans, (okay, maybe mid-rise) dance to the music (who cares what they are saying) and talk loudly enough during the songs that those around us stare in our general direction! Why? Because we can! That, and because life is too short…and if we are getting old I say we MUST squeeze out every drop there is to it. Now, I am going to let you pick the concert, and pick out your own jeans. But I do reserve the right to redress you if you look like my mom. I am shopping for a ticket westward bound!

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