The concert was good. The first item on the program was a Bach cantata. I snuck into the balcony, where they were allowing people in black carrying music scores to hang out and listen. I sat with the Mathematician. He told me his wife and kids were there. One of my kids was singing, and indeed standing next to him to do so. We updated one another on our other kids. I told him that I had invited my husband to come to the concert, but he had declined.

“I’ve only seen your husband once.”
“At the wedding?”
“Right. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t believe that you had a husband. I’d think you made him up to keep men from hitting on you.”

I’ve known the Mathematician for fifteen or twenty years. We often sing together. We’ve carpooled. We’ve been in Sunday School together, on committees together. I can’t decide whether it’s sad that he has only ever seen my husband once or not. It does suggest that we don’t socialize much together, but I already knew that, I think.

#1 son and I walked away from the concert in that mild euphoria you get after a successful performance. We ran into a friend of his.

“D’you see the concert?”
“Yeah! Man, it was epic!”
“Yeah! Epic music!”
“What you doing tonight?”
“I’m going to the girls’ house.”
“Wanna come? Call me.”
“K.” pause, then to me “Hi.”
“Oh — sorry, man , this is my mom.”
“It’s all good.”

Young people today use really short sentences. However, they made up for it with expansive gestures.

If you think you’re a young person and a counterexample, you’re not. 20 is old.