Thursday night, I was flipping through the channels, and landed on PBS to watch the Leonard Cohen Live in London Concert, Karen came into room, listened for a few minutes and asked about the performance unfamiliar with the music.
“This is good, who is it?” “Leonard Cohen, he has been around for a while I first heard him around forty years ago, Burke used to play his album.”
STOP, HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!
What did I just say? Did I just admit I have memories that go back forty years and longer? Impossible, it seems only a few years ago I was a kid, old people talk refer to memories by how many years ago they happened, not me.
I suppose as I think there has been a lot of water under the bridge but, forty years, has it really been that long since I was sixteen.
I don’t feel half way through my fifties but, then again I don’t know how I should feel, I remember how my parents and their friends described their aging process as one of continuously slowing down, fifty was old, sixty older, and past that ancient.
I know I am in better shape than I was in my twenties, thirties and forties I may have been stronger when I was younger but my overall condition is better, due to major lifestyle changes. I am smarter, I made mistakes and learned from them, I have more experiences and most important, I finally realized I don’t know everything and have a lot more to learn. Sure, I am a little gray around the edges, maybe a little thinner on top, but I have friends that had the same issues in their twenties and thirties.
Maybe it is my attitude, sure there are time to be serious and behave like an adult but if it isn’t necessary I like to laugh hard, sing loud, and as Karen says “behave like a twelve year old.”
As long as I don’t feel old enough to have memories that go back forty or fifty years ago who cares if they happened. The way I feel I feel I will be telling someone about the blog I wrote, fifty years ago.