There comes a point in life where you start to realize you’re not a kid anymore.
For some people, it’s getting their first real job, earning that first paycheck. But that wasn’t the case for me. My first real job was covering sports, which never felt like a job at all. It was merely an extension of something that had always been part of my life.
For other people, marriage brings, along with a hoarde of blenders and toasters, the realization that adulthood has begun. Again, that didn’t happen for me. My husband and I married in the magical land of Florida, where we spent our first six years together enjoying beaches and theme parks on an extended vacation. And we’re both a bit goofy and geeky, attributes that keep us young.
Home ownership occasionally acquaints some with the harsh realities of adulthood. I would say this came close to dissolving my delusions about life. Signing all those papers with a lot of big numbers that will haunt us for the next 30 years was sobering. But it still wasn’t enough to make me feel like a real grown-up.
For those who make it through these trials, the arrival of a baby can be the event that causes many to shake off those final vestiges of youth and emerge as a full-realized adult. But God hasn’t seen fit to bless me with any children other than the furry, four-legged kind. So that rite of passage has been denied to me as of yet.
But I began to feel a sense of finality creeping in this summer.
It started when I wasn’t in the theater for a midnight showing of “The Dark Knight Rises.”
It grew stronger when I didn’t make it to see “Dark Knight Rises” in the theater at all.
It really gained ground when a work-associated 11 p.m. bedtime meant cutting back on the television shows I could fit into an evening.
And it nearly knocked me off my feet when the realities of bills and car payments and a house payment and vet bills left me deciding between buying medicine for my cold or seeing Daniel Craig again as James Bond in “Skyfall.” (Thankfully, my 007-loving mother-in-law made sure I didn’t have to choose.)
As of today, consider me down for the count. My trusty Volkswagen Beetle became not so trusty this week. We’re looking at a massive repair bill, which may be more than the car is worth. That likely means no movies, no comics and no DVD rentals for some time.
And I’m OK with that. I don’t need to see “The Hobbit” or “So This is 40.” I can put grown-up responsibilities first. There was a time where that wouldn’t have been imaginable.
Not that I’m going to let this new sense of adulthood change who I am.
Being in the know when it comes to films and TV is just me. And you can be darn sure I’ll be first in line for “Iron Man 3” and “The Avengers 2.”
I said I’d grown up, not gone crazy.
Heather Bremer, a former Herald Bulletin reporter/designer, writes a weekly column on movies, television and pop culture. Contact her at heatherebremer@yahoo.com.
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December 6, 2012
Heather Bremer: Growing up doesn't mean giving up favorite diversions
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