Talking About My Oldest Surviving Generation

Me parents both died during the last few months of 2013. All their brothers and sisters are also deceased. The only Surviving relative in their generation is now me father’s cousin Anna Maria. I am now a member of the oldest generation of me kinfolk, assuming that the term ‘generation’ must at all times be used in the plural. Like everyone else I grew up as a member of the youngest generation. Considering that me both parents, and many of their brothers and sisters, have only died within the past decade, I remained one of the younger generations until only extremely recently .

Although at 62 years old, most people have already been in their families oldest generation anyway, for me it is a bit of a jolt. From now on I shall have to pretend I have some clue about what in the Sam Hill I am saying and doing as far as being one of the elder blokes.

One of me lifelong very favorite tactics, such an unavoidably necessary part of me traditionally daft sense of humor anyway, has always been to make anachronistic references, knowing that the people with whom I am associating can in absolutely no way whatsoever be expected to catch onto any of me comments. Old people always do that anyway. Considering that I have such a lot of practice and experience with it by now, I must be a bit of an expert.

When I was a young un, every time I fell or bumped into something, people would spontaneously blurt out : ‘Hey, stupid kid, next time cut the garbage and watch where you are going.! ‘ Now, under the same circumstances, they spontaneously have anxiety and panic attacks, thinking the old goat may end up having to be rushed to a hospital emergency room

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