The state of children today, declaims the curmudgeon. Here’s a clue from a recent outdoor wedding. Any more details, and some people will know where I was and who I mean.
The bride and her mother arranged for flower petals to be spread down the middle of the center aisle — yes, between the folding chairs, on the grass — on a lucious hilltop at the end of a sunny afternoon. Those blooms were red and orange. Though burgundy and cream were the official colors of the day, orange must have been picked for the brilliant contrast against the red and especially the thick green grass. It made a lovely photo, with the bride being barefoot; oh you should have been there.
Anyway, the guests filed in for the nuptials (well, matter of fact, I counted and there was only one nuptial). I heard 150 people were invited. Every adult, even those absorbed in conversation, found their seats by stepping carefully along the sides so as not to crush the delicate petals floating atop the blades of grass.
The kids, oh the kids, just tromped right through them. The ceremony didn’t quite start on time, and the restless children then moved about, stepping on the rose petals. Don’t get me wrong. I watched, and not one child maliciously stomped on them. The toddlers and older children simply focused on their various destinations and aimed their feet.
Gradually some petals disappeared. Hundreds remained; the wedding was just a few minutes late. (Me? I couldn’t help but watch as I was in my seat early, ready to take a few photos.) The oranges and reds were not quite as strong against the green anymore.
Not one parent raised a voice, raised a finger, raised an eyebrow. None.
People will tell you, they have told me, that if you are not a parent you have no right to criticize. Bunk. Nearly 300 million Americans are not members of Congress, but any of us are qualified to comment on and vote out the incumbents. I am a former child; some deny that “former” bit. I remember my easy-going but firm parents. I would have felt the Glare. Also, I remember well the parents of my childhood friends, some of whom were quite spoiled. But none like this. -30-
