How times have changed

So there I was, interviewing a guy for a story when in walks his grown son. The son had to be in his late 40s, at least. If you said 53, I wouldn't be surprised.

My very first initial impression was, cool! (Please don't judge me. I am a child of the '80s.)

His full head of more-salt-than-pepper flowed behind him as he walked with that arena-rock-star swagger adopted strictly to make it move just like that. You remember how these guys walked, right? They threw their hair better than a swimsuit model. I don't remember if he were wearing a Motley Crue T-shirt, although that's how I now have him pictured.

That first impression lasted all of 10 seconds.

My second thought was, "Man, 20 years ago I'd have thought you were the coolest thing ever. Now, it's kinda sad."

I mean, that was 20 years ago. I would have been 18, that look would have been cool, and I would have been dumb enough to think that awesome rock-star good looks were all that really mattered, even if I was jealous their hair was prettier than mine.

It's funny how times and tastes change. The reason our parents hated to see us come home with one of those guys was that even 20 years ago, he probably didn't have a steady job. That would have been evidenced by the fact that he only had the 2-60 air conditioning in his Trans-Am (two windows down at 60 miles per hour). He probably would have lived in his parents' basement, too.

To see a guy like that now you think, wow. I bet you still work in a record store. Or the skating rink. (I've seen more of his kind there.) Is it bad that I was picturing this guy sitting in a Naugahyde recliner in the paneled living room of an old single wide with Kiss and Lita Ford posters all over the walls?

*Sigh* Me and Cathy talk about this on our walks sometimes. I told you we used to walk this very neighborhood when we were 12 and 13, didn't I? We used to look for these guys! We totally overlooked their primered cars with cracked windshields. We could forgive them because they were cute and looked very nice from behind in those Levis. We loved it every time one of them honked at us while we strolled the sidewalks of the highway. They still honk, only now we look at the cars and think "Yeah, right. Not in this life, buddy." Because the kind of guys who impress us now don't have longer hair than we do blowing in the breeze. And they would have more class than to honk anyway.

It's one thing to appreciate classic rock, but dude. You really don't have to dress the part anymore.