On the Way Out
Vol. 1
Part 1
I’m an old man. There are plenty of us out there.
The only differences between us old codgers are our backgrounds, our own individual stories, our failures and accomplishments…maybe an itemized list hidden away somewhere in the attic, documenting a lifetime of our ups and our downs.
We have faced many obstacles in our short stint on this Earth and we have overcome all those unwanted events in our lives — many of which we have kicked down the road like an empty beer can — that spontaneous, aluminum vessel we see every now and then, bouncing helplessly down a quiet city street, finally disappearing into the nearest alley.
We have overcome.
I’m in my late 70s, pushing 80. You know, I’m the guy at the family gathering sitting in a recliner while the grandchildren bounce around the room like that old beer can. They have the world by the tail and have no idea and no concern, at that very moment, of what aging is all about —their innocence bringing back memories in an old man’s eye of a different era — a different moment in time…back in the 1950s, or back to those glory days like the 1960s.
Our sons and daughters are no spring chickens, either. Heck, most of them are pushing sixty, but the gaps between the two age groups are enormous. They are adults in their own era, but they no longer have the time, nor the ability to slow down and comprehend what it was like for Papa, or Mama, for that matter — back during those ancient times before World War II or a period soon after like the day President Kennedy was shot or the day astronaut Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon.
“Grandpa!” the grandkids nowadays ask. “What’s a phone booth and who is Elvis?”
Life marches on, except for us old-timers and we now revert to a crawl as our minds race back to a time when we were the innocent ones. Everything we touched seemed brand new. We questioned everything. Sometimes we’d get the right answers and sometimes not.
We learned fast, just like our grandkids do now. For them the world is as bright as the summer sun…the future is in front of them and they are ready to explore.
As for us old-timers, many of us want to sit back and take a journey back in time. Maybe not to live, but at least to recall and let our former deeds filter through our minds. Chances are our grandkids will catch us, not napping, but catch a glimpse of us in the old rocking chair and ask, “Why are you smiling and why are you shaking your head?”
If they only knew, if they could read minds…well the world would be in a very better place.
Unfortunately, us old timers are put out to pasture too soon. The only teaching tool we have is just being…being there to those who occasionally ask: “Who is Clint Eastwood and those phone booths he snuggled into in those detective movies, why are they so small?”
On second thought, maybe two hours of old movie-watching time should be set aside each week in all the classrooms across our nation. I know, that will never happen. It is full speed ahead with a new smart phone or the latest video game that could wear out an old man for agreeing to partner up with his grandkid and enter the world of make believe of who knows what. How many robots can you kill in thirty seconds or how many countries can you invade in one hour?
Life is not that simple anymore.
What happened to Hopalong Cassidy, the Cisco Kid…or Pancho doesn’t matter to anyone but us old-timers. Susan Hayward and Judy Garland are replaced now by Lady Gaga and Jennifer Lawrence. I’m probably already behind the times with those two current picks. Close your eyes for a second and a new rock band will emerge on the scene and knock your socks off. That, of course, may not be earth shattering, due to the fact back in the 1960s most of us didn’t wear socks.
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