Call me G-Dawg 9.28.01

A couple of weeks ago I was asked to speak at a local journalism conference to high school students interested in opinion writing. I thought, "what the hey, sounds like a hoot."
I dig rapping with the young folks and getting "jiggy wit it" as they say. Most of my friends are in their early 20s. I even have one college friend from my recent grad school experience who just turned 18 because she was a prodigy when she started college.
My old friends are chronically unhip, stuck in the 80s types so my notions of who my contemporaries are is completely out of whack.
I keep up with new trends, new music, what is cool, what is funky and I still like to consider myself young and hip enough to hang with just about anybody even though I have to sit down a lot while doing it and the mosh pit is right out.
But something disturbing happened while I was at this conference, something that made me question my like and my priorities. The sessions went OK, I answered most questions to the satisfaction of these high school juniors and seniors but then one kid asked me a question that threw me for a loop: "Mr. Jerrett, can I go to the bathroom?"
There were at least two things wrong with this question that I could think of. First of which was when this guy said "Mr. Jerrett," I actually looked at the door to see why my father had followed me to T.J.
Nobody, I mean nobody calls me Mr. Jerrett unless they are a telemarketer or a letter writer following a form of psuedo-politeness i.e. "Mr. Jerrett is completely wrong" or "Mr. Jerrett is an ignorant jackass who should go back where he come from."
I'm not a "Mr." I'm G-Dawg, G-Money, G-Monet (accent on the second syllable). People call me "dude" or "buddy." If teenagers start calling me "Mr." I might feel compelled to clean up my credit record, buy a car made this century or start investing in my retirement fund. I'm not ready to be a "Mr."
I'm a 33-year-old manchild like so many others of my wicked Generation X who decided to stay young far beyond what would normally be considered wise if for no other reason than the job market kept us from seeking truly grown up employment when we graduated from college the first time.
Society was not prepared to offer us the grownup jobs at 22 so many of us waited and took "entry level" positions in food service, record stores and telesales. We decided to not grow up either and good for it. Had I decided to grow up at 22 or 24 or 26, I would be a very bitter adult working at a very low paying job in telemarketing reading from a boring script instead of writing scripts and articles and columns now.
Samuel Clemens, better known as the great Mark Twain, advocated against growing up for as long as possible... at least on the inside. Of course in his day, a man could just decide to become a steamboat operator at 16 or pan for gold in California and then go into journalism by 20. No degrees necessary just rugged individualism and wide open job market.
Considering Twain's various lines of work, love of drink, cigars, parties and his casual lifestyle, he lived his life young at heart until the end. What a guy.
The other thing disturbed me that fateful day was why would anybody ask me if they could go to the bathroom? That just freaked me out. I don't need to know if a guy needs to take a lead or not.
I should not be allowed that power over anyone. No one should be able to tell a man when he can and cannot go to the bathroom. This is America after all.
Come to think of it, I am not altogether sure if that kid ever came back to the classroom, either. For all I know, he set out for Alaska to seek his fortune as a salmon fisher
It's funny that at 33 I still do not feel like an adult. It seems like my parents were irretrievably adult by the time they were in their mid-20s. Of course they had kids, a house and responsibility to take the edge off of any childish notions they may have had.
I used to think it was just me, but lately I've seen similar sentiments expressed by other 30-year-olds, mostly comedians and night club DJs. We are a generation of children coming into our own a little late in life and I don't really mind.
I think waiting until my 30s for my adult life to get started was a good thing in many ways. I didn't have the chops in my 20s to be a writer. I didn't have the life experience or the education. I hadn't done the essential reading or done enough writing. I probably would have become disillusioned and quit before I got rolling.
Or maybe that's just what I tell myself because deep down inside I know I could have been editor in chief of the weekly Keokuk Times-Picayune by 25 with a Lexus the size of a yacht and yacht the size of a house by now if only I had applied myself.
Oh well, best not to think of these things. The Lord works in mysterious ways and has a wonderful plan for our lives that He is not inclined to share with us. Now THAT'S funny.
-Greg Jerrett is staff writer at the Nonpareil. He may be contacted at 328-1811 ext. 279 or by e-mail at gjerrett@nonpareilonline.com.