Ah, the senior year of high school.
It’s a mixture of sweet, quickly passing memories and the hustle and bustle of getting ready for the next steps of life.
The senior pictures have been taken, and the other day was my son’s last marching band performance. Meanwhile, we’ve been to college campuses, filled out forms and paid application fees. He gets reams of mail, from every school in the Big 12 and beyond, including some colleges we’d never heard of. The Marines have sent a lot of stuff, and the other night they called. He talked to them politely, hung up and immediately returned to his video game.
So many opportunities come the way of the young. I’m not envious. I’m happy for him, and the very act of sorting all this out seems wearying to me. That doesn’t mean I’m old; it just means I’ve done that and prefer different new horizons at this point.
But the other day the mail brought something that challenges my many assumptions about things. It was one of those moments when you can feel your planet wobble on its axis, just for a minute.
My 17-year-old son got a membership card from the AARP.
What could this possibly mean?
I guarantee you he’s 17, not 50 or whatever it is you have to be to join. He’s got the energy level, the hair and the attitude. I’ll sign any affidavit they might need.
But perhaps this could be turned to our advantage. I looked over the form. It said, “We are fighting for your American Dream,” and it goes on to mention fixing Social Security, getting affordable health care and working to “end gridlock and demand bipartisan solutions.”
That all sounds fine, but the efforts in Washington lately have tended toward bailing out banks, automakers, banks, insurance underwriters and more banks – with my kid’s money. And his kids’ money, too. It’s all borrowed against a tomorrow we kind of hope never comes.
So that’s strike one.
The literature mentioned discounts on travel and other services, and it singled out car rentals and cruises. He’s not really the cruise type. Maybe it’s that 50-plus thing again.
In fact, if he has half a soul, he’ll infuriate his parents three or four years from now by skipping school for a year to backpack across Europe and taste the sweet Alpine air, seek romance and find himself. He will hitch and walk from hostel to hostel, and his parents will be half happy, half proud and half scared to death for him. It’s the way of things.
I don’t think the AARP covers stuff like that. They seem more into the package deal, and it’s the kids who see Mom and Dad off for a three-week jaunt and are glad for the relief. So that’s strike two.
Then my eye fell to the bottom of the page: “Access to financial programs.”
Have you seen the cost of higher education these days? It’s kind of like buying a car. The people who want your business are happy to give you the tour, talk about the Chiefs, chat up the product and ask about the family.
When it comes time for the big number, however, no one really wants to say it. The sales guy lowers his voice, looks left, looks right, then writes the figure on a slip of paper and slides it across his desk. You pick up the paper, poker faced, and the game begins.
The college people are like that, except you’re looking at an aggregate of numbers: tuition, books, room and board, the pizza fund. It adds up, but they don’t seem to want to give you the Big Number. Too much of a shock to the system.
So maybe we can work something out with the AARP after all. He’s not 50. Heck, I’m not 50. But neither am I proud. I can use all the help I can get.
