I showed my daughter this picture, and I asked her to guess who they were. This is how the conversation went:
Daughter: This is hard. They can’t be movie stars because I don’t recognize any of them.
Me: No. They are not movie stars,
Daughter: Hmmmm. Are they models? I mean, they’re kind of old and not that cute, but they are standing in front of a Macy’s sign. Do they model for IZOD?
Me: No, they do not model for IZOD.
Daughter: Hmmmm. Are they ditch diggers out for a night on the town?
Daughter: How about professional athletes, like baseball players or something? Sometimes baseball players dress cheesy in their real lives.
Me: No. They are not professional athletes. Do you give up?
Daughter: No. I deserve at least one more try.
Me: Okay, but make it a good one.
A few moments of silence while she studies the faces of the photograph, looking for something she can recognize.
Daughter: I got it! They are metro-sexual politicians trying to play it cool in the NYC.
Me: How do you know what metro-sexual is?
Daughter: Mom, please. I watch TV. And they are kind of Bieber looking, if you know what I mean.
Me. I had no idea what she meant. Yeah, I think I do.
Daughter: Okay, I give up. Who are they?
Me: They are the New Kids on the Block!
Me: NKOTB. You know… at this point I start singing….Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, the right stuff, girl-baby, you know you got the right stuff oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
As I sing, daughter’s countenance changes from ignorance to annoyance to a mild sense of horror.
Daughter: No. No, I really don’t. She looks back at the picture. How old are they? Her voice is incredulous.
Me: I don’t know. They have to be older than me, I imagine.
Daughter: Are they touring? Again…incredulous.
Me: Yes, and they are packing houses all across America.
Daughter: Rolls her eyes. No one I know would go to that!
Me: No, but I know people who are going.
Daughter: Are you? Fear. I see fear in her eyes.
Me: No, I never liked their music.
Daughter: Oh good. Panic is over.
She stares at the picture a moment longer.
Daughter: I think they should change their name to Old Kids Entering Middle-Age.
Me: Laughing. They totally should. God know they don’t look like kids anymore.
Later that day, just because I was curious, and I was convinced they look older than I do, I looked up their current ages. Damn it! They are all my age or a tiny bit younger!
Just another slap in the face by Father Time and Mother Nature, neither of which is taking my feelings into consideration lately!