History caught up with me today

Banned Histories of Race in America

History caught up with me today.

It was a small moment, really. Just a regular, every-day interaction. I pulled into Prompto to get my oil changed. I stepped out of the car and the guy with the clipboard greeted me. He was a young Black man and he spoke with a certain tone. We had never met before this, but the tone was familiar. There was a particular manner to it. I have spoken in this manner. I remember being very young and hearing my father speak in this manner. And I remember my father being spoken to in this manner once he reached a certain age.

I am 44 years old and today, for the first time, a stranger treated me as an elder.

Now, if you’re unfamiliar, this is not the same as being made to feel old. No one held a door for me, addressed me as “sir” or offered to carry anything to my car. It was very different than that. There isn’t exact language to describe this, but I can say there was an amount of deference and reverence and affection, but not a measurement for that amount. It wasn’t condescending or presumptuous. There was nothing negative about it.

Personally, it was a little difficult. I have a funny relationship with age. I became a professional Bluesman in my mid-twenties and was always compared to elders. I’ve often half-joked about having the rare profession one gets to age into. Generationally, I fall between Gen-X and Millennial. I remember the Rodney King video but my meme game is strong. I’ve been fortunate to be able-bodied most of my life, so I haven’t felt any physical ramifications of age just yet. I don’t have children and the job of a musician isn’t exactly one that requires a whole lot of growing up, whatever that’s supposed to mean. On top of all that, it feels like the version of adulthood we all believed was waiting for us was never very real to begin with. I guess what I’m saying is that being a childless, able-bodied Black Peter Pan doesn’t exactly make me feel equipped to carry the mantle of elder.