Getting older does not mean growing up

Well, it’s 2004, I’m 20 years old, and I don’t have any superpowers. By the standards of the 5-year old Aaron from 1989, I’m a complete failure.
Seriously, I figured that by this time I would at least be one of the Ghostbusters, or would have personally acquainted myself with Voltron.
Want to know something that’s really throwing me off-balance? Things I loved and adored as a kid are now being remade, and the originals are being referred to as “retro” or “classics”. He-Man and the Transformers both have new cartoon shows and toys, and there’s actually a live-action Transformers movie in the works right now. Yes, fellows, we have been given official permission to drool.
But like I was saying, my childhood has become nostalgic antiquity for today’s kids, and that’s just a little bit scary.
I still remember the first time I was seriously addressed as “Mister Rushton, sir”, and I still remember waking up 40 minutes later after I had passed out. I’m not a sir! I’m certainly not Mister Rushton! My Dad, he’s Mister Rushton! Or Grandpa, he can be Mister Rushton! I’m not Mister Rushton, I’m Aaron! I’m the Dude! For crying out loud, I still make goofy beards with my shaving cream!
I can certainly understand the appeal of the lifestyle of Peter Pan, wanting never to grow up. I’m not ready to grow up! I wasn’t even ready to leave high school! Well, OK, so I’m exaggerating a bit. Every single day of high school I spent at least 5 minutes in prayer to God that the next time I fell asleep in class, I’d just wake up a freshman in college.
I also have to say I’m a fan of the idea of being the absolute center of attention of an island populated by mermaids, Indians, fairies, and pirates.
Allow me to be coherent for a moment: time marches on, I’m getting older, my childhood is getting farther behind me with each passing day, there’s nothing I can do to stop it, and quite frankly, all that scares me.
It’s not that I’m not looking forward to being old, I think that’s a goal we’d pretty much all like to achieve some day. The thing that scares me is the idea that one day I’m going to have to buckle down and do all kinds of responsible adult stuff, like drinking coffee and telling my kids not to do the same stuff I was doing when I was their age.
And there’s something that ought to make every single one of you afraid for your lives – the idea of Aaron Jacob Rushton having children. Can you imagine what kind of warped minds would come out of a lifetime of being brought up by me?
Here’s another scary thing. In 11 years, Back to the Future part II will be completely out of date. 2015 will no longer be the wonderful “futuristic” thing it once was. I don’t have a time-traveling DeLorean yet, and I certainly haven’t seen any flying cars, and frankly, I’m getting a little disappointed.
I’m just not ready for all this real-life stuff. I’m not ready to be a Mister or a sir, I’m not ready to have to take things seriously, and I’m not ready to do something other than live my life from punch line to punch line.
I don’t want a job, I don’t want to face facts, I don’t want to be in charge, and I don’t want responsibilities. I don’t even want to have the responsibility of choosing too much. If I could have it my way, I’d choose about 4 things. I’d choose what I ate for lunch, I’d choose what movies I watched, I’d choose what I read, and I’d choose how I dress myself each day. And even that last one can be overruled by my Mom.
Somewhere within all this inane babbling I have a point, and this, as far as I can tell, is it: I’m getting older, and the world is beginning to expect more of me.
But does that mean I have to put down all my toys? I sure hope not.
The world is a big place, but it doesn’t have to be boring. Simply because the cold, dark, bleak ravages of time have turned us all into semi-responsible pre-professional adults doesn’t mean that we have to be lifeless husks, never allowing ourselves a break from the serious, mundane, and dull.
Well, OK, no, you can’t turn away from the serious, mundane, or dull if you’re an accounting major, sorry.
Live your life with the passion God intended, because we’re not going to be here long. Laugh. Share. Enjoy. Our world was crafted with us in mind. This is a place where we have been given opportunities to love and to hope because God wants us to experience the vibrant joy that comes from being fully alive, not the dismal torture that comes from barely living.
And above all, please, laugh. It makes me feel like I did a good job.
The ride this year has been fun for me, and I hope you have enjoyed at least something I wrote. I don’t claim to be any sort of philosopher, and I certainly hope nobody ever took me too seriously. Whether or not your eyes ever grace my column again, I hope I’ve made your day go a bit easier from time to time.
(By the way, I’d really like to do this again next year, so feel free to start up a massive letter-writing campaign to the office of the Bison to ensure that your Big Guy, Big Mouth column returns!)

Aaron Rushton is the humor columnist for The Bison, and everything he says should be taken with a very large and very sarcastic grain of salt. He can be reached at (501)305-8453, or by e-mailing AaronRushton@hotmail.com. Supplies are limited.