I Used to Be Cool
Was driving in Ankeny, Iowa when I got in line at a red light behind a F-150 Pickup truck. The bumper sticker on the driver’s side rear:
“I Used to Be Cool.”
I laughed.
“So did I,” I thought.
My beautiful wife wasn’t with me, but I could almost hear her voice saying:
“You were never cool.”
And I probably wasn’t.
We all like to think we were the greatest back in the day.
When I’m recalling sports that I played with my buddies I always pretend that I was much more of a strong presence than I actually was. A specific game might enter the conversation and I’ll say:
“I think I had 20 points and 18 rebounds in that one.”
They’ll laugh.
Or worse...
...remind me that I spent that particular game parked on the bench.
Yet, that’s the thing about looking back. We tell ourselves a lot of stories, and shame on you if you aren’t cool in all of them.
“The girls loved me,” I’ll often say to Kathy.
“No they didn’t.”
I spent a lot of years tellin my kids that I played in the NBA under the name of Jerry West.
How cool is that?
They believed me for a little while.
“I was a medic in Nam,” is another one of my little gems in an attempt to rewrite history.
“You were six!” Sam finally figured out.
So, I might get that bumper sticker.
I DID used to be cool.
I’m not anymore.
“I was an elite athlete,” I mentioned to my boy’s friend, Ben, right after I served him a little food.
“I can definitely see that,” he said.
Smart kid.
He knows I control the food now...
...and what’s cooler than that?
“I Used to Be Cool.”
I laughed.
“So did I,” I thought.
My beautiful wife wasn’t with me, but I could almost hear her voice saying:
“You were never cool.”
And I probably wasn’t.
We all like to think we were the greatest back in the day.
When I’m recalling sports that I played with my buddies I always pretend that I was much more of a strong presence than I actually was. A specific game might enter the conversation and I’ll say:
“I think I had 20 points and 18 rebounds in that one.”
They’ll laugh.
Or worse...
...remind me that I spent that particular game parked on the bench.
Yet, that’s the thing about looking back. We tell ourselves a lot of stories, and shame on you if you aren’t cool in all of them.
“The girls loved me,” I’ll often say to Kathy.
“No they didn’t.”
I spent a lot of years tellin my kids that I played in the NBA under the name of Jerry West.
How cool is that?
They believed me for a little while.
“I was a medic in Nam,” is another one of my little gems in an attempt to rewrite history.
“You were six!” Sam finally figured out.
So, I might get that bumper sticker.
I DID used to be cool.
I’m not anymore.
“I was an elite athlete,” I mentioned to my boy’s friend, Ben, right after I served him a little food.
“I can definitely see that,” he said.
Smart kid.
He knows I control the food now...
...and what’s cooler than that?
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