"This is the first time I've done this, by the way."
I realize I may be way, way behind the times since this was posted to YouTube in early April and I'm just now getting around to it... and in case there are folks out there who have not seen it, here it is. It is hilarious. I must confess, also, that I'm not familiar with The Zimmers (but this could change, really).
I identity with them! I mean, I sing off-beat too! Enthusiastically, but off-beat nonetheless. So, we're not that different?! I'd venture to say that these folks are probably hipper than I am, was, or ever will be. I've not done half the things they've done, and that's only from the video, not to mention everything else from their lives. If we had to count, just from the video, I haven't recorded with a band, I haven't played the drums, haven't beat up a guitar, haven't sung in a group this hip... so many things untouched. But I'm getting carried away. What I wanted to say touches something deeper in me -- more than just acknowledging that this video is belly-achingly funny or that these grandmamas and grandpapas are absolutely hip (more so than most of the folks I know!).
This entire enterprise demonstrates how disconnected I am. I've always noted that most of my friends and colleagues -- even from middle school -- were always much, much older than me, and in recognizing that I've (secretly?) relished the fact that they've deigned to allow my presence among them, as their peer. But, this goes beyond having older friends. It's the ability to connect with the older, stranger, more different generation; it's the ability to recognize the similarities and differences between me and my grandparents. Who knew that The Zimmers could pull off this amazing feat? It probably only took them hours, days, I don't know what, to prepare, but it probably began with them actually talking to some of these folks.
As with anything else related to older generations, seeing this video made me think of my grandparents, particularly Ba Ngoai (mom's mom). Ba Ngoai is an exceptionally cultured woman who has led a very difficult life. She has argued with and bribed Communist soldiers during the American/Vietnam War for visitation rights to see her jailed husband and son-in-law; she has searched battle fields for a missing soldier son; she has relocated, nurtured, and protected her immigrant family in an upstanding community; she has given homilies and prayed into health numerous family, friends, and neighbors; she reads the Bible religiously, and prays for each child, grand-child, and great-grandchild by name every morning, noon and night. In her old age, she has time to read prolifically. She gets her hair and nails done weekly and stays on top of Vietnam news -- from across the ocean.
And, ladies and gents, my Ba Ngoai also votes for her favorite idol.
I love this gentle, old woman, and I know so little about her. It's almost as if an entire museum of history is alive, flesh and blood, right here in our midst. A few weeks ago, an elderly gentleman in our church (who is practically 100) celebrated his birthday. We sat in a tight corner of the church in the fellowship hall, on one of those hard wooden benches worn smooth over the years. We talked about little things of no consequence, and I remember noticing his brand new Nike walking shoes. It was in one of those ordinary moments that he said he was not ready to die. His blunt statement caught me off guard. The honesty in what he said was so real, and the anxiety so visceral, I could not find any words to respond to what he said. And in his old, wizened way, he continued talking, saving me from bearing the burden of replying with some silly, trite statement. The experience touched me profoundly.
I wish that I could have done it better these years past. Seeing this video, I feel encouraged and uplifted... I guess this is all I have to say for now. I think I'll give Ba Ngoai a ring, to see how she's faring...
"Talkin' 'bout my generation, baby..."
No comments:
Post a Comment