Let's dispel a myth right now: curmudgeons are not cute. They are unpleasant to be around. They are old farts. They are not adorable. They say nasty things. They have foul odors, small hearts, and they pee every fifteen minutes. Who the hell would ever aspire to be one? Self disclosure: Me. Once. After Jamie asked me, early in our courtship, "What's so cute about that?" In fact, she winced. Hard. With cruel and visceral disdain. It triggered this epiphany: Uh,oh. I'd bought into a stereotype because I fancied it was lovable. Did I need to be loved that much? "Grandpa farted!" Ha, ha. Is that what I want my children and grandchildren to remember when they think of me - "Grandpa sat on his teeth!" Oh, God, no! Shoot me first.
And yet.
I admit to an occasional soupcon of behavior which might well classify as genus curmudgeon, for example, patience, as in none, or wearing cardigans, or cursing when I can't remember something (which is a lot). Dorian, my grandson, has the G-word down pat. Refusing to watch Oprah's interview is not curmudgeonly, but hollering at the screen, "Two words for you, lady. Two words! 'Personal Trainer!' Got 'em? Two words! 'Personal Trainer!'". How do I not want to be remembered? That way.
We, of Generation Curmudgeon, need to build a border wall to keep at bay creeping "kvetchism". It ain't easy, all those rapists, killers, and drug cartels chipping away at one's defenses, but, big deal, so what, somebody took my phone off my desk for the umpteenth time when I really have an important call to make? So what? Did I really want to talk to HP-InstantInk? Again? So what there's no sugar left in the sugar bowl to jump start the day? So what? Bad for me, anyway. So what if the gas tank is left on empty, it's zero degrees out, and you're 30 minutes from a gas station? So friggin' what? Slow down. Take a losartan.
Warning sign. I normally groan when I bend over to pick something up. Two groans. OK, three. My grandson, going on two and a half, was right there this morning when I bent over to pick up a toy truck off the floor. Bend groan reach grasp groan stand. And this little kid next to me is "doing" grandpa - bend groan reach groan - right there next to me! Bend groan reach groan. Munchkin style.The groans, in particular, were quite adorable. Grumpiness in the face of that smile? Why? Some legacy. Pass.
Most celebrity curmudgeons are humorous and very bright, yet cynicism and sarcasm are their bedrock. Their hands are cold. Not so much Oscar Levant - an irascible show biz personality, composer, author and sometimes game show host who died in 1972. Levant was also a world class hypochondriac as well as one of the funniest people on earth, only he directed most of his ire at himself. When asked on TV what he did for exercise, he answered, "I stand up, fall down, and go into a coma". That's curmudgeon-ism at its finest. No way to compete at that caliber. So, when my threshold reaches the grouse and whimper stage, it's best for me to just get out of the way. Pronto, but with grace, of course.
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