Old Man Blues

Here’s something
amusing. In 1966, my
parents hadn’t even met yet. My dad wasn’t even
preaching. Forty
years ago, they were still kids.

But it’s not fair to think of
it, forty years, I mean, as being so long ago.
Really, I’m sure, for a mother
the time must seem to go by very quickly.
How she still remembers changing
diapers or sending her boy off to school
and how, when you’re young,
you think that thirty is ancient.

Surely, you will never be thirty
and your own son will never be forty.
Real life catches up, though. The
constant turn of the planet
and soon enough, we’re all older than we ever
suspected we’d be.
Thank god for that, I say. I’d
rather be old and rowdy and breathing. The
other option is so much worse.

8 thoughts on “Old Man Blues

  1. Yeah, it’s weird getting older, but your brothers are still your brothers, even when they’re 54 and 49 and 46. And there’s my Mom, 80 years old, and all of her kids are in their 50s or near it. But in most ways it’s all still the same, and I mean that in a good way.

    And I am old, rowdy and still breathing. It really does keep getting better, even though your body can’t keep up sometimes.

    But I’ve said too much.

  2. Isn’t this Sarcastro’s B’day? Is that what this is about? I asked him, but he refuses to answer.

    Overtaken by shame, I guess

  3. 40??? God, I hope I never get that old. But a lot of people hope I never get that old, too.

  4. That’s absolutely the last time I spend twenty minutes trying to encode secret messages in bad poetry.

  5. Hear’s to your health, Sar!

    I trust you will treat this mommentous occasion with the proper dignity it deserves. I would.

    Now, go and get shit-faced.

  6. Damn, am I embarrassed now. I thought the secret message was for me on my extended birthday weekend.

    I will get shit-faced on his behalf nonetheless.

Comments are closed.