Tuesday, February 19, 2008

we didn't speak just exhaled frozen worlds

One of the hardest things to conceive as time continues to tick along is chinks in the armor.
When you are in 1st grade the 8th graders tower above and seem to have it all together. They engage is relationships that a child can only compare to marriage. We look up to them as elders who have endured all life has to offer. They look so old, ready for gray hair and bifocals.
As nervous high school freshman seniors walk on stilts, drink beer on the weekend and have most likely lost their virginity. They no longer look as old as the 8th graders but they seem to have traveled the road, ending their journey with college acceptance.
Freshman in college have nothing to worry about. They have a forum to reinvent themselves. They become idealistic and experiment in ways that would leave parents sobered with disappointment. When you are handed the diploma you peer at your elders: mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, uncles and old friends waving in the breeze. They have finished that part of the journey and are excited but have been here before. They know the drill and ease back in their folding chairs, gripping the program filled with names and supposed destinations. You sit back down, hungover and staring at your newly acquired paunch.
I might be naïve. I might have lived a sheltered life. I might have no idea what the hell I am talking about. I am most likely considered immature.
I do feel that nobody wants to witness weakness entering the pores of someone you admire. They reveal a weak spot in a frozen moment. A moment only the admirer can understand. A sweet spot where the shooter is trained to aim.
It’s not weakness amongst your peers. Many of them will get devoured by the night, you next to them with clenched fists. Peers grow old with you and find new things to compete for in golf handicaps and the homeliness of their new homes. You might not fight the fight with them but you will always watch from the sidelines.
It’s those who towered above. Those who walked on stilts in hallways with echoes of clanging locker doors. Those who waved with the wind sneaking through the tiny slits between their moist fingers. Those hands that waved grow crooked with a sense of urgency. They might have disappointed you. Said the wrong things or didn’t say anything at all. This aspect of age we should fear most.
As I grow older and inevitably closer to my elders, I don’t want the gap to close. I want the spaces to be huge and filled with calm winds.
I am not consumed by sadness. I am just consumed with the human experience.

***

Enough serious talk. Once again my dear friend Ted offers me a piece of music that chills me to the bone. Check out Grand Ole Party.

Don't compare the sound or voices. Just listen to the lyrics and fall over when the music stops.

I am as excited to see this as I was when my brother revealed to me the news of a live action Ninja Turtles movies through excited shiny braces.

The next Last Boy Scout? God I am hoping so.

1 comment:

Sean said...

The hilarity of remembering those stilt walkers now is to see modern High School Seniors and how young they look. How did they go from so old to so young? How did we get from so young to so old? The tragedy of age continues...