It’s Not in the Script

When you are at the age where you are quoting your grandparents, it’s fair to say your youth is behind you. While the years ahead are fewer than ever before, I take comfort in knowing that I have gotten most of my material life lessons out of the way and am maximizing my age garnered wisdom. That said, realizing why my grandparents said the things they did and wishing I had listened more closely is a feeling I cannot quantify. Imagining how much easier my life would have been if I actually listened to all that good advice brings me down a rabbit hole that goes for miles.

My latest ‘when I was a kid’ moment left me shaking my head with the way the world has changed. I wrote a friend’s daughter a thank you note for helping me with a project. The extra hands were helpful and appreciated, so I wrote her a thank you note and put a $50 bill inside so she could treat herself to something. (If you are reading this in the U.S, that will merely buy her a dozen eggs and a gallon of milk, but that’s another, ‘back in my day’ story for another time.)

The fifteen year old was a bit bemused when I handed her the card. I knew she wasn’t expecting anything, but the way she looked at the card with her name on it seemed out of place. She hesitantly opened the envelope, took out the notecard, and looked inside. Her expression changed yet again, this time to what I can only describe as complete confusion. She had the $50 bill and the card in her hands, and she stared. And stared some more. First at the money, then at the card.  Her brow furrowed. She looked from the card to her mom, to me and then back to the card.

“I can’t read this,” she said. Now it was my turn to be confused. This girl is an honor’s student. Of course she can read. “What do you mean, Honey?” was the only natural response, so I asked. “This writing; I can’t read it,” she said. As someone who went to Catholic school, I take pride in my penmanship, which I admit is a lost art, so my own confusion deepened. I know my writing is not only legible, it’s quite lovely. “What do you mean?” I asked again.

“I can’t understand it. It’s all loopy and curvy” she said. I can’t read this. It was then that her mom and I realized that she couldn’t read cursive. She can only read printed words, not script. I was truly speechless. This is an articulate, straight A student. How could this be? I know school’s stopped teaching penmanship, but to not even be able to read it? Apparently, that’s the case.

So, I took the card and read it to her. She was appreciative but still not fully relaxed. I asked her if everything was all right and she sheepishly asked me if I could Venmo her the $50 as she didn’t own a wallet and wasn’t sure stores, “took paper money anymore.” There are no words for how antiquated I felt in that moment. So much for being the cool grownup.

At least I have a Venmo account…..