He Rocks My World

Okay, start breathing again. It's a teaser title.

Have you ever been forced to face your age? You 20-somethings out there don't know it yet, but mentally you always imagine yourself as a 20-something, which is probably why people get annoyed as the birthdays stack up.

When I returned to college while still living in Utah (the first time), I was in my late twenties. One of my teaching assistants was younger than I was. I was annoyed.

When Cole was born, I was 34. One of the attending physicians was younger than I was. I was really annoyed.

When I was 40, I started having trouble reading. I went to the optometrist and paid lots of money to hear him say, "You're not as young as you think you are. Your eye muscles are getting tired, and your ability to make them tighten up enough to see fine things closely will continue to diminish." Humph! I paid enough money to at least get the news sugar-coated.

One of our clients at Impact was the Grand Casino, located in Biloxi, Mississippi. On a sales visit, we were checking into their hotel. The registration agent asked me my age. I was obviously old enough to have a credit card, rent a car, gamble (though I didn't) and so forth. A little bit of Dan must have gotten into me and I decided to be obstinate. I asked why they needed the information. They said the management needed it. I asked if it was really true that I had to come all the way to the South, the home of gentility and respect for womanhood, to be asked for the first time in my life by a hotel clerk how old I was. She was thoroughly embarrassed, which uncharacteristically, gave me a little bit of satisfaction before I told her how old I was.

Chad Sloan is President Sloan's very charming third child. He's (nearly?) 18, graduated from Lehi High School this year where my son teaches art/photography, was/is Mr. Lehi, plays the piano like a dream, I think was the quarterback (don't quote me), is leaving for a mission in two months--you get the picture. He has come with his family to Ecuador until he leaves for his mission. He's a real utility player. He does whatever we need him to do, including going on divisions with the missionaries.

So at the zone conference last week, he approaches me and says, "Sister Griesemer, do I hear you are Mr. Griesemer's mother?" You all know I'm rarely at a loss for words. But I stood there while I processed that this young man (remember, I think of myself as being in my twenties) was asking me if I was old enough to be his grandmother, and the answer was YES! He rocked my world! My sweet youth drained away in an instant.

Chad, if you ever read this, "no se preocupe." I'm not permanently damaged, I'm just particularly attached to my illusions. And I'm sure someone will return the favor to you when you're fifty-something. It's part of life.