tmi

I love my family...I really, really, do...

But...

I just sat at dinner with six baby boomers: my parents, my father's two brothers, and their wives. The topic of discussion? Bodily functions, medical procedures, and illnesses.

Once again, my experience has become a cliche.

I seem to recall that years ago, there was a trend amongst stand up comics to complain about their parents' inability to utter the name of certain diseases, or to grouse about their parents' propensity towards discussing certain bodily difficulties. I thought it was specific to the eighties, and hoped that it might pass. "Your Uncle Marty...? He has... (whisper) cancer."

Apparently, it is something that afflicts all generations: at some point, we all are shocked by the fact that our parents no longer consider propriety when choosing to relate their stories of digital exams and mammograms.

I'm glad that they have these procedures. I love that they take care of their bodies.

But sheesh...do I need to hear a twist-by-turn account of the latest colonoscopy over dinner?