Sunday, July 16, 2006
The Slurpee Generation
Scene from the park:
I was sitting in Garden Park reading Harpers as the kids played shots on goal after the World Cup final. That immediacy of kids is refreshing. Right after the game they have to go out and play soccer. Fortunately they were trying to score goals, not head-butt.
A new father, probably in his late twenties, early thirties walked up to the play area near me. He was meticulously dressed in modern sport/casual attire, with a Slurpee in one hand, and an Everest ready MEC kid back pack, filled with with kid.
I've never been a Slurpee fan. I think I was just a bit behind the curve in terms of timing (Sarnia, Ontario, late sixties, proximity of a 7-11), so it never became a habit. But, what do you do if you grew up with Slurpees, and now you've got a kid. Do you walk right by the 7-11, or do you get in while the going's good, before they can start to ask for one?
The new father bent down to put his Slurpee gently on the ground, unshouldered the pack, and extracted the kid from his high-tech chamber. The kid was gently put into the swing, the digitial video camera came out of somewhere, and the moment was captured.
After a few minutes of this the kid started squawking. The dad tried changing swings and a bottle, but to no avail. I somehow thought the kid just wanted to get down and crawl on the grass or in the sand by the swing and slide, but this did not seem to be in the game plan. At no time did the little kids sock covered feet come in contact with the planet Earth.
The dad, re-inserted the kid into the MEC expeditionary gear, shouldered it, bent down to pick up his Slurpee, and was off.
I somehow can't draw the conclusion I want from this. There was a gestalt I felt about the scene; the well-groomed sport/casual clothes, MEC backpack, digital video camera, child as an addendum to the gear, the controlled interaction with the playground, and of course, the Slurpee that for some reason pinpointed the scene.
So I'll have to leave any conclusion up in the air now, and let it sift a bit.
I was sitting in Garden Park reading Harpers as the kids played shots on goal after the World Cup final. That immediacy of kids is refreshing. Right after the game they have to go out and play soccer. Fortunately they were trying to score goals, not head-butt.
A new father, probably in his late twenties, early thirties walked up to the play area near me. He was meticulously dressed in modern sport/casual attire, with a Slurpee in one hand, and an Everest ready MEC kid back pack, filled with with kid.
I've never been a Slurpee fan. I think I was just a bit behind the curve in terms of timing (Sarnia, Ontario, late sixties, proximity of a 7-11), so it never became a habit. But, what do you do if you grew up with Slurpees, and now you've got a kid. Do you walk right by the 7-11, or do you get in while the going's good, before they can start to ask for one?
The new father bent down to put his Slurpee gently on the ground, unshouldered the pack, and extracted the kid from his high-tech chamber. The kid was gently put into the swing, the digitial video camera came out of somewhere, and the moment was captured.
After a few minutes of this the kid started squawking. The dad tried changing swings and a bottle, but to no avail. I somehow thought the kid just wanted to get down and crawl on the grass or in the sand by the swing and slide, but this did not seem to be in the game plan. At no time did the little kids sock covered feet come in contact with the planet Earth.
The dad, re-inserted the kid into the MEC expeditionary gear, shouldered it, bent down to pick up his Slurpee, and was off.
I somehow can't draw the conclusion I want from this. There was a gestalt I felt about the scene; the well-groomed sport/casual clothes, MEC backpack, digital video camera, child as an addendum to the gear, the controlled interaction with the playground, and of course, the Slurpee that for some reason pinpointed the scene.
So I'll have to leave any conclusion up in the air now, and let it sift a bit.
// posted by Bob Walker @ 10:11 PM 
