So, what have you guys been doing for the last few days? Me? I’ve been watching the stock market and keeping an eye on my retirement package. When the closing bell rang today I was down to a tube of Polident and a half-can of Metamuscil.

I’ve actually been trying (unsuccessfully) to avoid media coverage of the financial mess. There isn’t enough 12-year-old Cragganmore Scotch in my neighborhood package goods to sufficiently numb one’s exposure to the bleak ramblings of one’s preferred talking head.

Looks like we all picked a bad week to stop sniffing glue.

As the regular readers of this Poo-Paw space may already know, the wife is an AARP member. Yours truly is – as I love pointing out at every opportunity – not quite old enough to qualify for membership.

But I do take full advantage of the benefits of grandma’s membership, and have found myself to be quite a fan of the old folks’ publications.

When the AARP Bulletin arrived the other day, I snagged it from the mail pile and headed off to the bath… er… reading room.

After skimming through the requisite stories aimed at seniors, I came across a snappy little read entitled ‘50 Words Kids Think You Don’t Know.’

However, before I address the general snotty tone of the piece, I did want to mention – in a nod to the financial reference in my opening – that this issue featured a story that, well, scared the bejeezes right out of me.

The article opened with the following scenario: “Behind a security gate in the desolate parking lot of a California church, the 55 year-old grandmother settles in for the night in the backseat of her Jeep Cherokee.”

Yep, she is homeless. And, even though she works a full-time job and has been in the workforce her entire life, this grandmother is just one of 4,000 people (most of them over 62) in the Santa Barbara area who can’t afford to keep a roof over their heads. It’s gotten so bad that retail stores are opening their parking lots during non-shopping hours so these car-dwellers have a safe neighborhood in which to sleep.

Anyway, to escape this brutal glimpse at reality, I turned to the inside back page and read a list of slang expressions that apparently our children think are just too damn hip for us to understand.

Among them? Google, webisode, bling, the bomb, fo’shizzle and badonkadonk.

Puh-leeze. One, the frenemies using this verbiage must be trapped in the 90s, yo, cause, like, terminology like fo’shizzle is so old it be wack.

And two, much like the non-English speaking person who can understand just enough of the language to know you’re speaking ill of them, us seasoned citizens like to pretend we know less than we really do. It keeps us from being saddled with activities in which we really don’t want to participate.

Sort of like when the wife asks me to fix something plumbing-, electrical- or carpentry-related.

I’m probably more in ‘the loop’ than your average Poo-Paw. After all, I make my living as a freelance writer, and more often than not am called upon for commentary and observation of current pop culture.

That will certainly help when my little grand gnome starts tossing out terms like TMI, BFF, crackberry and wikidemia.

“That’s tight, little dude,” I will utter, and he will find that grandpa is indeed one of his peeps and most certainly rocks.

But in the interest of fair time, I thought about a partial list of just a few words that this generation of youngsters seemingly doesn’t understand.

Manners – not the yes ma’am, no sir kinda stuff (although that would be nice), but the hold the door open, get off your cell phone, stop saying ‘huh’ brand of social conduct that, if they had thumbs, any species of chimp could muster.

Respect – and not just for your fellow man, but for yourself, your property and for those who love you. And if you don’t respect yourself, never expect any one else to respect you.

Earn – work for something. Set some goals, show some initiative and stop blaming everyone else for things that go awry. And don’t expect a new BMW on your 16th birthday.

Mollycoddled – what you’ve been since birth, and now that you’ve reached an age where your parents should no longer be doing things for you, you’re as lost as the aforementioned thumb-less chimp.

Listen – see manners, respect, earn and mollycoddled above.

Perhaps then we can eliminate three words that have been applied all-too-often to this generation of youth: disillusioned, bored and uneducated.

And if I sound grouchy, I am. Stories of homeless grandparents will do that to you.

By J. Doug Gill