There's Nothing Worse than an Aging Hippy...

Why Didn't He Act His Age??!!

“Congratulations! You've entered elderly territory!”

“Does this always include breakage of body parts?”

“Dude, you've just entered it...just you wait! AH! HA! HA! HA! HA!”

**

I can always count on compassion and understanding from him. I called him up for advice on how to deal with knee pain and his first reaction was to goof on me. “You're breaking your cherry!” was another comment.

Gee.Thanks...

The advice I get was to hit up a Dollar Store/Tree/WelfareHut and buy cheapo liniment cream to use. He advised me never to get BenGay, IcyHot or any other brand name as it's over $8 a tube and the cheaper stuff works just as well.

“BenGay? You're telling me to get BenGay? Don't even mention that product to me! I ain't that old yet!” I complain. “I don't need to smell of Social Security check just yet!”

My ball busting friend retorts: “Listen, will you? It's a FACT...You're 51 now and you have just barely stepped into another world. You don't know anything about it yet and it's only going to get worse, not better. Stop thinking you're 35 still!

“BenGay ain't going to cure this.” I say

“Nope, it won't do a damn thing to cure it. You're problem is you're 51, stand on your feet all day and have you're grandmother's genes for grinding your joints to dust! Unless you can magically change all three...until then...you want the pain to go away...it's liniment oil and I'll prescribe Geritol too if you need it.”

**

There's a scene in Spielberg's “Lincoln” where he does the simple act of grabbing onto a chair to help stand up while his son, Todd is riding on his back. The scene was just to impart to you the idea that Lincoln was a declining man with all the early signs of age working him harder at 56. When I found myself the other day using the arm of a chair to right myself up and take the weight off that left knee, I couldn't help but remember that scene.

“Damn...it's happening” I thought.

Since I'm a Boomer, born in the last year of that cohort, I have been infected with the idea that we're always going to be young and that rock and roll will never die. Rock and roll will never die. However, the acceptance of the fact we're never going to remain 23 forever has to finally sink in when your own body starts reminding you. You cannot ignore that fat elephant that's in the room. But like I said before, I'm a Boomer and still can't let go of what youth. I did buy into that belief when we were young, that we were: “Too young to know, too old to care” It defined us. We were too soon grown up and proudly jaded by 14. Get out of childhood quick into young adulthood and remain there as long as possible

**

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rage at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light!

This is probably how I'm going to do it, rage against it, considering my reaction to it now. So what if I chase girls half my age. So what if I blast Ozzie Osbourne in my car, doing it with this mop of blinding white hair as others look on. So what if I end up with a knee brace while at the beach? Want to know why “So what?” Because I can get away with it. How do I “get away with it?” Easy, by blowing off conformity and convention. It helps greatly to ignore what everyone else thinks of you, in fact, that's the liberation. Thank GOD for the 60's and 70s! It taught us kids then that busting out of convention was the way to go.

“Look at him...he should be ashamed! My daughter is that girl's age!” I once overheard.

“You have a 22 year old daughter? Where?” I fired back.

Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll but he's too young to die.

So the old Rocker gets out his bike

to make a ton before he takes his leave.

Up on the A1, by Scotch Corner

Just like it used to be.

And as he flies --- tears in his eyes ---

his wind-whipped words echo the final take

and he hits the trunk road doing around 120

with no room left to brake.

And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll but he was too young to die.

No! You're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die!

Click the Pic and Watch the Anthem of the Boomers!

Showing My Age and the Pawsox Move

The other day I was talking to an 18 year old about life, careers in particular. I had mentioned to him that most of the people I know are not in the vocations they trained for while in school.

To his surprise he asks: “You know some guys that have two...three degrees and they're not doing it anymore?”

“Sure.” I answered quite casually and as if it's nothing of any major importance.

The look on the kid's face was one of disbelief. Also, you could see a hint of disgust come across it as well. The thought he was thinking was written on his face: “Why FAIL in life so poorly?” I then knew he didn't “know” anything yet.

“I guess, at your age, you hope that it's school-college-first job-better second job-then a major career? Add to that a few girlfriends, then settling down to that ONE girl who you'll marry and have kids with? A house in Rehoboth in that plan too?” I ask.

“Well, maybe not in that order...” he says.

“Well, I'm not going to dissuade you from that, it's not my right. In fact, go for it. But don't be surprised if your plan goes awry.”

“I won't let it.” he tells me.

The hubris was a bit of a shock to me but I realized too, he's an 18 year old male. He can handle anything. I should've had a shaman's look, perhaps an oxen robe as well draped on me as well when I answered him back with:

“You won't let it? You will let it...you WILL.”

So I explain it to him.

What he hasn't experience yet, and hopefully he won't, are changes in the economy, political changes in the national gov't that wipes out whole career paths, illness, illness of others, even perhaps a change in himself where he wants to do something different. What about what others in his life that may force a change? What if he becomes a faithful follower to alcoholism?

“Look, it's really not all that bad to change direction” I tell him. “There might be times in your life when the world, outside pressures, will demand you change course...that doesn't mean you LOSE everything, in no way in hell does it mean that. You can always find satisfaction in different and numerous ways. The trick is to know there are always options.”

Again, his face gave it away. I could see he was trying to process all this borax I was giving him. I might have as well spoke in Cantonese. Some of it he managed to “get” but the idea that you don't always have COMMAND of your life was unthinkable to him.

“I hope it all turns out for you. For some people it does.” I finally say.

**

I hear the Lucchino Group has bought out the Pawsox and intends to ship them somewhere, Providence evidently on the land opened up when they moved I-95. I live not too far from McCoy, to the northeast of the stadium and what I'll miss is that light glow and the sounds from it on summer nights. If the air is still enough I could sit on my front steps and hear the crack of the bat and listen along to the announcers. Those drifting sounds have been a part of my entire life here. Add to that the silly low prices they charged vs going to Fenway to be bent over and raped.

Lucchino complains the area isn't conducive to turning it into something akin to the Gillette stadium in Foxboro, with all the attendant stores and restaurants that attach to the anchor, the stadium itself. Plus there's little parking around McCoy, well there isn't if you don't know the area. That much is true. The area cannot be designed as a Mall of America unless you raze dozens of multi-family residences and move some streets around. Gentrifying that neighborhood will run into a huge fight as the area is far entrenched with vested Hispanic businesses. I won't mention the historical associations that'll start using Federal laws to protect the very many 150+ year old buildings there.

If it all goes to plan, the Pawsox lease will run out by 2017. I have no idea on what they could put there next? Could they woo another minor league team here? Turn it into a mini Comcast Center? The Pawtucket Arts Coucil has already, within hours of the Lucchino announcement, have expressed an interest in it. But they too haven't figured out for what exactly. Hopefully it won't sit there and rot and become another haven for teen keg parties.

I'm no big sports fan but I'll miss the summertime sounds like:

“Going back...going back...at the track, at the wall... SEEYA! IT'S GONE!"

Ewwww! Get Away From Me!

From a conversation explaining my own bad self

I ask:

“Look, you can have hundreds of acquaintances and seem popular, but does that outweigh a few good friends you've known for decades?”

No answer so I inject.

“Not by a longshot” I say.

I was telling a few people of my “don't get your soiled life on me!” philosophy. In short and in metaphor, if you are crawling with tics, fleas, smallpox and other vermin, I don't want you near me. I don't want someone's fucked up life splattering on mine. Oh...and YOU have seen this all the time haven't you? I ain't just spouting crap here.

Examples of infectious people?

Alcoholics, druggies, alcoholic-druggies, people who can't count money nor use it properly, add to that those who don't know how to balance a checkbook, anyone who says “It was just a short term in prison,” mental cases, anyone who may appear on Judge Judy, white trash, black trash, Hispanic trash, Asian trash. Oh who else? Thieves, expert liars, manipulators, wannabee tough guys, wannabe Einsteins and those who can claim they've moved seven times in the past year...do you get my point?

I detest instability, especially when it's slopped on me by someone else. I'm still from the Old School of manners and spilling your life on someone else is a major faux pas. But guess what, no one cares about etiquette now. Regular life imitates a frat party nowadays. Spilling your red beer cup onto someone because you can't control yourself is the norm.

I'm not 100% perfect but the cited examples above aren't part of my life...and hopefully never.

You know what this does also, being selective? It removes about 80% of the people I may run into in my life. Good riddance!

I overheard this once and had to comment.

“He's 23, living at home and has been in and out of rehab. He's smashed up two cars. He won't find a job and to top it off, he calls his mother a bitch if she complains in the slightest.”

I spin around and interject, “Oh God, I'm glad I'm not that kid's parent. That's what I want out of life, to pay $20,000 for failed rehab, to buy cars and to beg out of a conversation when other parents are lauding their own kid's successes.”

“That's insensitive!” I'm told.

“Maybe, but do YOU want to be this kid's parent?”

Silence. Of course there's no answer.

“If you want to be a Savior, go adopt a crack baby, tell me how great you feel in about six months.”

I used to work in social services if you can believe it...

But guess what we did in social services, for the human wrecks that came our way. We were like Ebola Dr's, covered head to toe in environmental suits. We made damn sure there was some professional distance between us and them. You DON'T get their diseases or their lives ON you. You can help and care for them without, in a sense, french kissing them. That's how you help AND keep their infected lives off of you.

All the above seem strident? You're right! Wonder where I got this sort of shrill attitude? I was in the past, a few times, too near those whose lives were nothing but shit-wagons and yep, I was besmirched.

That taught me a lesson I heard time and again but I never did take to heart until I put myself through unnecessary grief: 

"If you lay down with dogs, you wake up with fleas"

Semi White Trash Couple Enjoying a Weekend?

In reality. This was from the Executioner's Song, depicting Nicole Barrett's life turning to shit because of Gary Gilmore, who in time, was executed by firing squad by the State of Utah.

So, come on over! Have a few beers...They're reaall nice people!

Princess Weddings and Cleaning the Toilet

Valentine's Day has arrived and Russel Stover, any balloon company and DeBeer's diamonds are doing well. $14,000 diamond tennis bracelets...my God. Well, if you hit Megabucks, I guess you can afford it.

I have had some quick conversations with some women who will be alone for this day or currently estranged from their mates. None were happy about it and that's all due to wanting things to be perfect, or believing in perfection.

Their fault? No. The culture bombards them daily with the “just perfect” relationship or the perfect life one “should be living.” None of these things are real since perfection can't be maintained for more than what? A few minutes? Even if you get it? Get one headache and the whole Fantasy is thrown off. Rich and living in the Caymans with a handsome boyfriend? Great...it's all besmirched when the maid does a lousy job vacuuming up the dog hair in your pretty home...or if Mr. Right snores.

There is no such thing as perfection. There is no such thing as abject failure either. Neither of those conditions can exist.

One young woman I talked to I had to remind her of this:

“You think all those relationships are happy, fulfilling and faultless? They're all pretty much a muddy affair in which people stumble on through. Many don't even survive. Look at the divorce rates! Look at the marriages/relationships that are shams.”

“Look at all of them, they're all up and down, left and right and inside and out. They all morph from one moment to the next. Their trick is to put on a public face and shove that best foot forward to give the image of “forever happy.”

“Don't you believe it! One of the best hidden things in life are the state of others' marriages.”

I then reminded her of what she does have in her hand of cards, minus the boyfriend.

“You're pretty, even on the inside. I've met many pretty woman who were just plain ugly on the inside once I got to know them. You're not a single mom who was saddled with kids when that last boyfriend split. You not crawling with STD's because you don't hop from bed to bed looking for someone to like you for an hour or two. You have a career and don't need some guy to split the rent with, keeping you in a sort of bondage to a person you may no longer like...or love. Lastly, you have a good heart.”

Did I reach her? I don't know.

Finally I said:

“By tomorrow, you'll forget all about today...and have to shovel the snow! Reality is easier to deal with than some of the unreachable dreams that were planted in your head.”

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