Pearls: Grumpy old man club

EDITORIAL MUG: Matt Pearl

You know, you get to a certain age and everything that used to sound boring suddenly appears more exciting.

Watching a movie at home was once something I did on a Saturday night because I didn’t have any interesting plans. Now, that is the interesting plan.

Staying home and watching a movie I can pause, eating food I have already bought, wearing sweatpants and hanging out with the wife and kids—now that is a good time.

I have officially joined the Grumpy Old Man Club, where I bemoan out loud in restaurants how just a few years ago we could eat for $10.00 a plate. Movie tickets? No way. Especially now that you buy your ticket at the concession counter from the same kid that sold you those Milk Duds, as if you were some sort of barbarian.

Other Club benefits include making exaggerated noises of relief when taking off my shoes, and finishing my kids’ food when their plates aren’t cleaned.

Do I daily stand in my own living room, arms spread, and say, ‘Well it wasn’t me who made this mess,’ while my kids look down in shame? Yes. That’s me.

I grouch at my kids for leaving the exact wrong amount of milk in the gallon jug. I stop the mower, pick up a toy someone left lying in the yard, and look around, hoping one of them will see the inconvenience I have suffered as I shake that Frisbee in disappointment.

I have an entire speech in my imagination to deliver to Taylor Swift, urging her not to distract my players, that we are a defending NFL champion with too much riding on the season for her to take the attention of the best tight end in the league.

Birds are becoming more entertaining to watch.

Yup, I’ll be an officer in that Grumpy Old Man Club any day now.

But until I go all-in and start yelling at Wheel of Fortune contestants through the television set, I should probably remind myself that my youth is not completely spent.

I mean, I still enjoy a good cartoon once in a while. And I still eat the whipped cream off the top of the pie before I eat the actual slice.

I take Oreos apart to eat them. I have been known to throw that Frisbee, or a football, or a baseball around with my kiddos. I laugh out loud every time I watch Home Alone.

So maybe I’m not always a grumpy old dude. You might say at times that I’m just downright fun.

You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m just not always sure I really know how a man in his middle-40s is supposed to behave.

When my students at school play games or do their dances at pep rallies, I still love joining in the fun. But when the bells rings, I want kids to load the school buses in an orderly fashion. This is uncharted territory for me: they might end up calling me the Playful Grump of Empire Prairie.

As I sit here typing, I look down at the hem of my Hagar dress pants—a solid professional choice of workwear—I also see my gray pair of Nike running shoes. I wear both proudly.

And for that matter, I guess I’ll embrace my grumpy old youthfulness in a similar spirit. Why? Because I don’t need to act this way or that way: and I certainly can’t choose between the perks of youth and the experience of age—because I want to keep both of those qualities.

Is this why some guys have a mid-life crisis? I really don’t need any kind of crisis.

I guess if you see me on the sidewalk and I am grumpily picking up loose change, you’ll know which side of me is winning that day. Or, if you see me another time wrestling with my kids in the yard, you’ll know the youthful man is in control.

Tonight, though, I think I’ll stay in and watch that movie.

Matt Pearl owns and operates The Tri-County Ledger.