There’s some psychology thangs going on in my head, y’all, and I’m trying to work it out.

Part of this adulting thing is how we deal with the generations; ours, the preceding one, and the ones that will come after us. The decisions we make for each color our world and leave a mark on theirs as well.

As someone who doesn’t have kids, but has a number of nieces and nephews, I know of the responsibility I have to them; being a great uncle is more than just sliding over $20 every few months. I know of the responsibility I have to my generation, the ones I talk in reverent tones about our wild natures, parents who left us to our own devices, and the last vestiges of “good music”. But I was not aware of the breadth and depth of what I owe to my parents, and, by extension, what I may owe to my parents’ generation.

If one is lucky and blessed, you live to get old. I’m not so sure about that now. Doctor visits. pills, the divestment of the American social safety net to reduce life expectancy. It’s all very strange; as much as we say we as a country revere our veterans, our elders, or “essential workers”, the more we seem to actually ignore their needs.

Anyway, I have four elders who I am directly involved with, all with differing needs and states of mental and physical presence. In the attempt to make sure all of them are cared for and live out their days in dignity, we are smacked in the face of how many loopholes and circus hoops one must go through. Forms and applications and decisions made by faceless entities like insurance companies. You just want to make sure the people you love are content and safe, and everything that could possibly infringe on that causes stress, and I’ve been…having some stress lately.

Hell, even writing this was kind of stressful.

But, onwards.