I like to think most people are kind-hearted souls who would never try to convince their friends that a bidet is a European Water Fountain and that it is customary to use it to both wash your hands and drink from it.
Perhaps we should grateful we didn’t have this sign hanging around the restroom during our trip to Europe. If we did I might not have convinced those drunk college students to foster their European sides by using the aforementioned bidet.
In the time before the modern age film would have served as proof those fellows tried to demonstrate they were more European than actual Europeans. Or it would have had it not been lost in the X-Ray machine at De gaulle Airport.
Yeah, that long wistful sigh you just heard was me thinking about how much fun we could have had those pictures been available for upload today.
That is one of many tales that resides in the memory banks of some and isn’t available for general consumption and perhaps that is for the best.
I suspect more than a few people of my generation are happy about such things. Because we can tell you the stories about why we refer to mutton heads, dolts and dumbasses like Frankinkatz the monster but you won’t see pictures of old Dave earning his moniker.
Use One Word To Describe You- GenXish
If you are reading this on the Substack you’re likely a newer reader and interested in what to expect here.
GenXish is the word I came up with to describe myself and what to expect here.
I am an older GenXer which places me on the far side of my fifties based upon chronological age and but in my mind’s eye I see myself as being somewhere between 25 and 30.
That works as long as I don’t look in the mirror, sneeze too hard or remember I have a kid that is smack between those years.
Writing online isn’t new to me, I have been doing this for more than 20 years now.
Some of you are well acquainted with me and some haven’t a clue which is why I am taking a minute to walk you through the giant empty space between my ears so you get a sense of what you are in for.
I don’t operate off of an editorial calendar but I can promise you the topics here will include thoughts about being almost middle age, parenting, writing, thoughts on being Jewish, Israel and life.
If things go as they have I’ll gather a circle that will love my writing and some that will engage in hate reading.
At least a few of those hate readers will leave comments or send emails expressing their love in the most colorful terms they can.
I may or may not respond to them or share my responses with you but it is almost always based upon the following.
No one is obligated to be here. No one is obligated to read and this isn’t an airport so you don’t have to announce your departure.
But if you do choose to leave and ask for me to cancel your subscription I will sentence you to 3 months of hard labor in Cleveland and or charge you $100 per letter of my most recent post.
If you are from Cleveland I might force you to get baked goods from a real bakery because Davis can’t figure out how to make a good Chinese cookie.
I’ll also remind you that Pop is a description for a father and that your children say soda or use name of the actual soft drink.
But let’s go back to our conversation about writing online.
Writing is one of the ways I relax and blow off steam.
It is part of how I make sense of the world and a tool I have used both personally and professionally for decades now.
And by decades I mean since the eighties which we all know was in what we call the near distant past.
Really, I was about six weeks short of 12 when Ronald Reagan was shot and that is what, about 25 years ago.
The topic came up because I saw John Hinckley’s name online and clicked on the story long enough to read the first couple of ‘graphs.
Reminded me of how much GenX has seen and experienced.
I am one of those who was around during the tail end of the sixties though I probably don’t really remember anything before I was around 2.5 or so.
The point is if your childhood took place during the prior century your in a place like me where you likely have more than just a primary care physician.
Like me you may be lifting weights and working on mobility and balance for reasons that are slightly different than when we were in our twenties, thirties and maybe even our forties.
You might be divorced and preparing for your 40th high school reunion having made a promise you won’t go home with your high school ex like you did when you were 21 or 30.
You might have a half dozen grandchildren that you want to be able to get on the floor and play with.
Or maybe you had a medical emergency that scared you and made you realize you need to build a body for the second half of life yesterday.
And let’s not forget that if you are my generation there is a chance you are helping to take care of older parents. Remember when sandwich was a term dedicated to food. 🙂
Wrapping It Up
I am still working on tweaking the look of the Substack and there is a good chance I’ll do something to Joshuawilner.com too.
Still learning about how substack works and thinking about whether dividing my time in more places is a good use of it or not.
There is the usual push/pull of growing a readership and building a community.
The mechanics and set up on Substack still make me think about how much I could have done in the early days of blogging if the tools were as easy to use as they are now.
Kind of surreal to me to think that we’re about 20 days away from Rosh Hashanah.
I always get a bit more introspective around that time of year It mean it’s almost two years since I got ghosted by some who said I was important and about the same since I walked from others.
It also means it is 34 days until the 1 year anniversary of the surgery that lead to the split stitch.
That means it is 43 days until I hit the one year anniversary of the paramedics wheeling me out for a four day stay at Baylor Scott and White in Grapevine.
Or you could say it is 43 days until I celebrate the anniversary of double fisting IVs. Nothing better than getting two units of blood and having the docs say they think you might have Sepsis or some other nasty bug.
As I have said elsewhere, the privilege that comes with almost dying is it sharpens your perspective on what is and isn’t important.
And how many people can say they fought the grim reaper in single combat and one.
He’ll get me one day, but it is not this day.
I encourage you to stick around for the ride, we’re just getting started.
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