“Where’s your coat?”
“It’s not that cold.”
“You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t wear a coat.”
“It’s 82 degrees outside.”
“I know. Where’s your coat? Put on your coat!”
“Yes ma’am.”
Rodney Rothman, I wish I were you. I wish I were a former head writer for The Late Show with David Letterman. I wish I had gotten to work on the Judd Apatow television show Undeclared. I’ve read some of your McSweeney’s articles, and I laughed at them.
I’ve seen your name pop up on shows like The Office. You’re that writer journeyman who gets to work on all the fun stuff; fun stuff that I like to watch and read. Yes, I would like just a sliver of your life. I want to walk in your shoes, except for that part when you spent a year in a retirement home.
“Where are your socks?”
“My socks?”
“Your socks. You’re going to catch a cold.”
“It’s June Grandma.”
“SOCKS!”
“Yes ma’am.”
It’s been awhile since I’ve read this book, but the jist is that after the cancellation of Undeclared Rothman decided to retire from work. He was a young writer, who had done nothing but work on television shows for seven years. He had some money saved up, he had no commitments (except for maybe a book deal), and he simply decided it was time to retire. So he retired. I’m not talking about, loaf around the house, watching CNN and eating frozen pizzas all day (which is my personal dream), he retired to a retirement community in Boca Raton, Florida.
“Have you eaten lunch yet?”
“No. I was just going to skip lunch.”
“You shouldn’t skip meals. Eat. I have some lunch meat in the refrigerator.”
“No, really- it’s…”
“EAT!”
“Yes ma’am.”
It’s really a cute book. Rothman meets and develops relationships with all kinds of old people. It’s funny, and slightly sad, as you think that all these people are going to die, as are we all. It sort of makes me nostalgic for something that’s never happened to me: being doted on by dozens of grandparents who have nothing better to do than to dote on someone.
“You eat too much!”
“You just handed me this sandwich.”
“I know, but if you keep eating, you’re never going to lose weight.”
“Right, I understand, but you literally forced me to take this sandwich from you like 45 seconds ago. Now you’re getting mad because I’m eating too much?”
“Oprah says…”
“Yes ma’am.”
I’ve been doted on by one set of grandparents, and it’s lovely, for the first week. I love my grandparents. It was several years ago that I found I had become one of those post undergrad twenty-something bums who found myself homeless when the American Dream failed me (that, or my degree in art failed to land me a job as a high powered business executive, what do those guys do anyway? I want to wear a business suit, and eat power lunches, and sit at a desk checking my Myspace all day too- except for wearing the business suit part) So I was forced to move in with my grandparents. They woke up early, they went to bed early, they didn’t know what the internet was, or have cable television, or know how to work their DVD player… but they doted on me like nobody’s business, and I loved it, and it drove me nuts. So maybe that’s why I loved this book. Not LOVED loved. It’s not my all time favorite book, but it had one of those, “find an old t-shirt in the bottom of the dresser drawer that you haven’t worn in years, but you loved that t-shirt, why haven’t you worn it? So you put it on, and oh yeah, that’s what you miss. Oh sure the sleeves are frayed, and maybe that’s why you stopped wearing it, but it does feel good.” That’s what this book is like… but probably only if you love old people, or were forced to live with your grandparents.