Family, part III: neighbour's kitten (prospective) - narcissism and hyperextended adolescence

I had arranged to attend the Sunday morning service with my friend S. at his Evangelical Church. I have probably sat through no more than a dozen or two church services in my life, and almost exclusively for either a marriage ceremony or a funeral service. In fact when S. asked me when was the last time I attended one without pretence, I realised after reflection that I probably never had done so. And I had never been to an Evangelical church for any reason before.

I was impressed with the stripped-down parsimony of the service and of the message, and how much simpler it was to comprehend compared to that with which I am much more familiar such as the Catholic service and its elaborate, inscrutable ceremony and symbolism. The worship parts were focussed on a few songs, with simple, familiar arrangements, presented by a three piece band (drums, bass and guitar) with a male and two female singers, and simple, straightforward, modern lyrics projected onto a screen above the performers suggesting the audience to sing along, which they did. And between songs the main performer expressed his thanks and love to the divine with a refreshing and unambiguous candour. No obtuse or obscure hymns in 15th-century English, no lofty organ or rehearsed choir, more like families with parents and children sitting around the campfire.

I had a lot of work I wanted to get done that afternoon so I got myself set up at my desk and went out to get a coffee at the neighbourhood coffee shop around the corner from my house. It was very busy and although I had planned to hole up at my desk for the day, it was turning out to be a very nice day and I was feeling a bit cut off, so I decided to hang around there for at least a little while and work on the Saturday cryptic crossword puzzle. As I looked around the shop I thought again of the crowd at the hockey game the night before, and the crowd at the church that morning, and then the crowd in the coffee shop. The people there were all "grown up", that is more or less my age: late 20s, 30s and 40s, single, and in pairs and threes and fours, but not a single child, no parents, no grandparents, no husbands, no wives. A whole crowded coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon in a trendy "up-and-coming" neighbourhood in a large city, and all of us living these sort of detached, urbane, sophisticated yet leisurely, empty lives. At the table next to me I overhead an obviously gay man telling his female interlocutor "Oh, let me show you this kitten I am thinking of getting", before showing her a series of photos on his iPhone. He went on to describe long lists of pros and cons he had already mapped out before soliciting his companion's opinion of the would-be adoptee. I felt that the inordinate importance that this man put on such a trivial decision as adopting a kitten somehow represented the narcissism of my entire hyperextended adolescence, my entire generation, my entire neighbourhood, my entire city and most of my acquaintances in it.