I'm obsessed with getting older. It's not a recent development due to my strawberry butt skid right around second base and directly into AARP, but more of a lifelong fascination with what's next? I've always loved older people and now I "is one". I was born an old soul and couldn't relate to most people emotionally childlilke. When I finally got around to being "my age" I just wasn't as interested anymore. Be careful what you ask for. When the time finally arrives, you may just forget the point of the whole conversation.
I'm lucky to be great friends with many of the people that I grew up with. I take relationships extremely seriously. I've been married to none, yet life mates with many. Soul and HO sound so similar in the hood no matter how much hay is in the trunk of the '67 Caddy-low rider buggy. We are all of one heart and bleed red.
I'm in for the long haul and give everyone the benefit of the doubt until they prove me wrong, over and over and over and over again. I forgive daily, but forget never., unless I self deprecate, forgive for the sake of inner guilt for something completely unrelated then chew on it like a piece of Juicy Fruit till all the flavor is gone.
Then I stick the flavorless glob up in my hair to visit it later with a sugarless view of obsession and sleeplessness. I fall somewhere on the spectrum of a Jewish-slanted guilt ridden Mother Theresa and a Baptist over nip and tucked Kenny Rogers hangin' with Dolly. I want to deserve eternal salvation from the Divine, but in the mean time I'd rather be wrinkle free and fabulous for the masses.
Growing up I thought I would be the first one "out of Dodge", but creating happiness in one environment doesn't always bode well for escape. I've seen one after the other go onto success propelled by leaving their misery and fueled by their reinvention into something or someone that they could develop from scratch exiting the hand they drew and tweaking the family recipe into a fresh face with no past. Other's like me, stayed put. It could be reliving the glory years, or a deeper understanding in the end, we all come home. I believe I was born to welcome the weary traveler to a safe haven and not "wandering" where I might end up. No matter where you lay your head, you is who you is:)
In the mean time, I watch people age. It scares me to see them change. Some do so more gracefully than others as the buxom 14 year old cheerleader due to genetic prolific endowments can also be cursed with accompanying mid section heart disease balanced by the beardless, 110 lbs almost too pretty little 16 year old high school junior Sheldon finally meets his counterpart alpha self at 40. When you peak is a driving force in your destiny and the limited understanding of others view of you, It makes a crystal ball a welcome purchase.
We gauge ourselves by others. Their look. Their success. Their ability to navigate. The 180mph speedometer on the Porsche that still can't be legally driven faster than a Yugo
It's also been said that we think old is anyone that is 10 years our senior.. Think about that one for a minute, or 10.! Man that's a wake up call for those that are close enough to the edge that falling off is just a broken hip away.
As much as I fight it, good/bad, necessary/indifferent, I'm glued to my phone. Whenever I am watching TV, reading the news/feed, surfing the net, I ask Siri...…"How old is...….?". It gives me perspective. How much time do I have? Time to make my mark. Succeed......Fail. LIVE? It gives me perpective to my own personal "10 years" to perceived relevancy.
Recently I saw Lauren Hutton on a talk show. I've had a crush for decades. Of course I had to ask......Siri" "How old is Lauren Hutton?" she is 76 -years old. Starting to show age that life can't hide, but still LAUREN HUTTON. A natural, gap-toothed stunner that helped make Michael Strahan a household name. Tim Allen a double 6-er that his youthful humor can't compete with the almost 2 score and 10 Don Johnson's well kept genetic attributes. Brad Pitt is one week younger than me. Could I also be estranged from a beauty begging for a cheeseburger trying to adopt every third world child on the planet just to prove to her "Midnight" father cowboy-ing his way through emotional unavailability? Maybe his "Friendly" demaeanor escalates him into an ageless hierarchy? Am I missing the point or is my over thinking a Pitt-fall?
Each time I would walk to the mirror and check the progress. Where do I fall? Can I still compete? How does my family blood of looks, humor, intelligence, persistence and ability make me who I am and how I will continue to be viable? Suck the gut in. Raise the square jawline to just the right photographic angle. Appreciate the teeth. FLOSS! Feed the cats. Mow the grass. Live in some semblance of reality.
I just got off the phone with a dying friend. She's held on so much longer than she should feeling guilted into it as she is so concerned about her mother. She is not having the problem as the Mother is the problem. It's not Kim's responsibility to worry about her, as it's Mom's purpose to worry about daughter. As my Grandmother would say, "some people never grow up, they just get older. And, once we finish raising them, you'll know what I mean". so here we are. When is enough, enough? When did we peak? Is there another chance? Is pushing the destination 10 years in the future no matter what the age the cause or the effect? Are we here to raise, be raised or lift ourselves up?
Do we ask God? Do we ask Siri? I think everyday is a new phone number and chapter of Luke to read. There's validation everywhere, just the questions and resources change. I've never met Luke. I've never met Siri, but I have met me and know that the true answers come from within and the person that I need to be the most honest with,...…. is me. No matter how old Siri says Groucho Marx would be, or how many photo ready lights I put up on the vanity to diminish the lines, the roadmap always comes back home.
Siri, Siri in the phone, for who must I atone?. You Dave..................YOU.