All grown up, kind of

I was recently trying to figure out when, exactly, I became a grownup. As I pondered this I pulled on my corduroys and that’s when it hit me. Clothing plays a significant role. There are other signals, but let’s deal with the clothes first.When I was in grade school my parents were much enamored with the wear and warmth of corduroy. I was duly outfitted with several pair. As I walked through the halls at school you could hear me coming; zwick — zwick — zwick went the pant legs. My ‘roys also felt funny and would make lines in my hands if I leaned on them for too long. However, since dungarees (not jeans, mind you) were not permitted, this was the next most durable fabric. I hated them. Then one day, 35 years later, I needed casual dress pants for a job in which I was outdoors much of the time. Voila!Then there was the day I bought my first package of V–neck undershirts. As kids we often wore white T-shirts for outside wear. In those days there was no such thing as novelty T’s, just plain, white. The collar in the front was supposed to show when you wore a shirt over it. When the day came that the peek-a-boo T-shirt was no longer acceptable, to the point that I was willing to spend money on something this uncool, my first gray hairs were making their debut.Beverage choice seems to have gone through several stages. The first forbidden drink was coffee. I felt like a big boy when finally I was poured my first cup of half coffee and half milk. Next came beer, although I didn’t really like beer until years later, but I drank it anyway. During this phase I drank many manly alcoholic beverages, dutifully choking them down. What was the worst that could happen? I mean, if I threw up the guys would just think I was drinking in heroic proportions. They threw up all the time. Many years later I stopped consuming drinks that basically tasted like the stuff used to sterilize your oral thermometers. Recently I resumed drinking chocolate milk. Yummy.Food is another signal of growth. Now I actually like spinach and broccoli. Scalloped potatoes are a real treat. These are things that, as a child, actuated my gag reflex. The trick is to put enough butter on them. You can eat almost anything if you put enough butter on it.Now that I am all grown up I can embrace my maturity. I will begin just as soon as I finish this bowl of Froot Loops.Bill Abrams resides, and is aging gracefully, in Pine Plains.