Good Old Hairy Days

Today at work I attended a lecture given by a man who looked like Bruce Willis but spoke with a thick British accent. While talking about how the computer technology had evolved, he mentioned the good old days when he had hair. Funny guy, and bald of course.

I suppose I am among the few who do not reminisce about the good old days or wish we could turn back the time and be in our twenties again. My new job has put me in contact with many new college graduates, and I often smile sadly at their naiveté, their clumsiness as well as their bad haircut; but then my smile turns wry when I remember my own unsophistication when I was at that age. So even though I enjoy moving about in the spatial dimensions, I would rather stay right where I am in the temporal dimension, thank you very much.

The point is that everything comes in a package, or a bundle as marketers are so fond of saying these days. If you want a woman then you have to put up with her possesiveness and nagging. To hang on to your freedom you have to accept loneliness. In the same way, youth carries beauty and stamina and a bursting love of life, but it also comes with severe cluelessness.

I am sure the witty lecturer I listened to today was just joking about his good old hairy days, and I doubt that he would trade the bundle he possesses now for the one he had in his youth. But then I could be wrong, knowing naught about being bald when my hair, thank goodness, is still intact.