"Growing Up is  Hard to do."

 

I was born poor, ignorant, ugly and immediately began makinga loud and glorious noise with

my mouth.  I intend to go out like I came in.  

 

My Mother and Father were, to me,  beautiful in every way;  rich beyond belief, and brilliant .  Each had only a high school education but somehow challenged me to be handsome, well off and smart enough to get by. 

 

Now, approaching eighty, I'm finally beginning to grow up, at least giving some consideration

to that milestone of life. 

 

Most of my friends made that giant step when they were twenty or thirty.  All I could say was, "To each his own."  At one time, I was not allowed to even think in cliché.  As a newsman, copy writer, radio announcer and manager, there was a certain demand to appear intelligent.

I believe I enjoyed copywriting the most.  It allowed me to invent slogans and phrases with appeal to what they called the education level of broadcasting audiences,...twelve. 

 

Thanks to parental influence in my early years, I wouldn't dare use profanity.  World War Two was my introduction to that form of communication.  And, although I have suffered through and even participated in ''talking trash'', I don't believe I am better off for it.  

 

My communication skills, learned in the early twelve hour days of announcing on the radio, got a real shock when I began calling on merchants, selling radio advertising.   We just weren't on

the same wave length.   My "Goodmorning, sir," just didn't break ice. 

 I had to learn, "Hi, ya, Charlie,  do I have an idea for you?"  Well, I didn't have an idea for him, but I would think of something.  The main thing, I learned in time, was to keep talking, on their level, and about something they cared about.  The advertising idea could be finessed (sp) ( Since I don't have a French and don't intend to buy from the French, will have to let Spell Check make a decision) into the conversation after we talked about the number of doves

shot around the saw mill pond the day before.  Dizzy Dean always told how he "slud into third base."  Advertising sales talk had to be ''slud'' in after a full discussion of the deer hunt, bird hunt, squirrel hunt, golf round, good looking girls or whatever their interest at the time.

 

My copywriting skills made the transition to sales talk just a breeze.   Believe it was that point

in my life that I began to speak in "slogan and cliché's, know what I mean, Vern?

 

That same "go-along, get-along'' conversational technique continues to serve me today. 

Even at my age, I plead guilty to communicating, even with little children, on their level.  I have

no grandchildren of my own, but do enjoy the company of what I like to refer to as  "my surrogate grand children."

 

Alex and Claire are my leaders. I'll do whatever they say.  Alex still believes I am eight, while

Claire tells one and all that Al is her age, four.   Alex calls me "Pal, Al."  Claire calls me "Al, Pal."  Who could ever consider growing up, when four and eight are the ideal ages.  Think about

it. 

 

When people try to impress one another, and appear grown up, just consider what I have to accept at my age.  Retired, on a fixed income, not enjoying the best of health, why would I

want to "grow up?"  It's just not possible at this time. 

 

The solution is to enjoy poverty, know you're not going to look any better, and just generally believe that auditory loss, poor eyesight  and memory failure won't allow one to become any smarter. The only time you can apply these losses to your benefit, is when the Telemarketer calls for donations. You sadly respond with, "I am so sorry I can't help this year.  I'm on 

Social Security, just had another heart surgery and am on life support.  Maybe next year."  The caller almost cries in backing off. Like Elvis says, "Don't Be Cruel",

but use the only resources God has given you. 

 

Even though I was giving some consideration to growing up, I have decided against the idea.

I'm afraid Alex and Claire would be disappointed.   

 

           Sean Dupre, professional

           photographer and Computer

           Science teacher at Lufkin

           High, and proud father of 

           these beautiful girls.