My Generation

The weather hovered at 21 degrees with a wind chill of next to nothing. How cold was it? I saw commuters jogging in place at a bus stop to keep warm. As much as I did not want to be out and about, my travels took me to a department store.

A teenager wearing nothing but sweatpants got out of her car in the rear of the parking lot. We parked in the same row so our egress through winter turned out to be a parrallel journey. The teenager and I walked alongside one another in a two-step race for the entrance. Bone chilling numbness immediately shocked my middle-aged system. I flipped up the hood on my oversized winter coat. I slipped on my winter gloves while she involuntarily shivered from the shoulders down. I felt foolish not being able to put my hat on before my ears turned brittle. The wind whipped right through the teenager’s cotton garments. She looked so pathetic that my parental tones took over.

“You have to be freezing cold.” I empathized. “Where is your coat?”

“Our generation doesn’t like cumbersome coats." she explained. "It’s not fashionable.”

I saw another teenager who resembled this same cold person. I couldn’t be sure if it were her and I did not want to take anything for granted. The weather was a carbon copy of winter. Draped only in a Penn State grey sweatsuit, this teenager seemed hell bent on freezing to death. I decided to throw the same line out there to see if it would ring any hell’s bells.

“You have to be freezing cold.” I empathized. “Where is your coat?”

As she escorted a retarded man across campus, she made a blanket statement without its warmth. “I don’t wear coats.”

The retarded client wearing a full-length coat never joined in on our conversation. He and I shared a warm smile, however.