The late comedian, Rodney Dangerfield, was an aging, down on himself slinger of one-liners that showcased the mild mistreatment from those closest to him in life. In a phrase he proclaimed, "I don't get no respect!" Back in the late 1960's and early 1970's, I watched him on television and I just didn't get his humor. I didn't understand all the attention this middle aged, self-deprecating curmudgeon got. Now though, four decades later, I'm getting it! Just like Rodney, I don't get no respect!
I don't get no respect from my wife, Jackie. Everyone knows that this winter was one of the worst ones on record in the Philadelphia region. I was already riddled with anxiety and restlessness because, in case you didn't know, I don't like snow, and significant snowfall had been forecast. I looked out the window and saw something I didn't want to see. "I see flakes," I said in a slightly aggravated, and slightly fearful voice. "I see a flake too!" she responded. Nope, no respect!
I don't get no respect from my daughter, Karen. She has posted a photo to social media announcing her plan to 'adopt her parents'. I see an anxious, restless pup by the name of Joe on the right side of the photo. I see a more attractive, less frazzled gal pup named Jackie on the left side. I don't get the connection, and I still don't get no respect!
I also don't get no respect from my coworkers. Two of them, whose identities I want to conceal, so I'll call them Amy and Lisanne for the sake of the story, were inventorying our Reading Library books and came across two titles that they laughingly brought to me. They called them my 'summer reading assignment'. One of them was called The Little Round Husband. It's about a man who loved to eat. His wife loved him round, but the rest of the world thought he should be thin. After painful effort to lose weight, he accepted his roundness. The other was called The Wonderhair Hair Restorer. This one told the story of a Dad who was losing his hair. For Father's Day, he received a bottle of hair restorer. It didn't work, and a series of embarrassing events allowed him to accept his baldness. Again, I don't get the connection and I don't get no respect!
...And, I don't get no respect from myself either. Just get a load of this dialogue from a weekend visit from my daughter:
Karen: I hope Downton Abbey is 'On Demand'.
Mom: Just search for the title.
Karen: I looked for the show and it's not there.
Mom: Look for WHYY and search for Masterpiece Theater.
Karen: WHYY's not here. (Karen fiddles with the remote and confusing On Demand menus.) STUPID REMOTE!
Dad: Give it to Mom. She's used to dealing with stupid things.
...and they wonder why I don't talk. Nope, still no respect!
It seems that I can only rely on babes, dogs, and the elderly for respect. Recently I delivered some papers to the Social Skills Director at school while she was working with two little ladies. She guided them in greeting me with a "Hello, Mr. Bonanno!" Without prompting, one of them added, "You look very handsome today!" We all smiled and giggled and I thanked her. Perhaps handsome in that belly thickening and hair thinning Grandpop sort of way, and in that middle aged, self-deprecating curmudgeon sort of way...but I'll take it. Out of the mouths of babes...and kudos to the Social Skills Director! Perhaps she'd agree to an intervention with the adults in my life!
Yes, I get it now after all these years! I get the aging, the baldness, and the roundness. I get the mild mistreatment from those closest to me. I get all the connections. Best of all, I get the humor, and appreciate it...but like Rodney Dangerfield, I just
don't get no respect!
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