Three Quarters of a Century and . . .

. . . The Piano Man 

It's nine o'clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There's an old man sittin' next to me
Makin' love to his tonic and gin

He says, "Son can you play me a memory?
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"

        The Piano Man   Billy Joel

Mrs Dear Leader - My Own Piano Woman? Piano Gal? Piano Person?

Turning any of the big round numbers - 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 - is a big deal (okay, we make them a big deal.) However making it to one’s 75^th birthday, as I recently did, is somehow different. It raises many very interesting questions chief of which is: how is this freaking possible?! One day you’re young and immortal and the next you’ve got gray hair, saggy arms and a slipping memory - you are three quarters of a century old, buddy!

Some how it brings Billy Joel's song Piano Man to mind.

“It’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete . . .”

When I wore a younger man’s clothes in college in the mid 60’s I read a book that took place in 1974.  I remember thinking, my God, in 1974 I'll be 26, an old man. And now I’m 75? Really?! Hoo boy.

 

Live 3/4 of a century? Surely you jest! 

When I was young, it was like the perfect summer; one day drifting leisurely into the next with no end in sight. Now, the days speed by as if being pursued by a relentless debt collector - for a bill I do NOT want to pay.  

Lovely 52 yr old mom -  with insufferable son

Still, most of our days are made up of random and unimportant events - interspersed with moments of great joy, immense sadness or sheer terror. Some seem to shimmer as if they were just a dream while others glow like they happened yesterday - not 40 years ago. Collectively, those sad and sweet memories become who we are (Ooo, that's a big thought!) 

 

As an aside, I heard a great way to express life in three stages: Childhood, adulthood, and GEE, YOU LOOK TERRIFIC! (Demonstrating the lies we tell each other.) 

Toenail Clippers for seniors (I kid you not)

I kid people that I consider myself in "late middle age" and I really feel that way, at least physically. Then one day, you look up when someone is addressed as a senior citizen - and you notice everyone looking at you. Ruh roh. It’s not getting older that bothers me, though, it’s coming to grips with it. (Which I suppose I better do pretty soon.)

I often wonder if my dad thought about stuff like this. 

Dad - The Young Spendid Splinter

Probably not, he was a lot smarter than me.

They say getting old ain't for sissies but it's not all stooped shoulders and bald heads either. Studies indicate that people between the ages of 65 and 79 say those are some of their happiest years. On the other hand, we are apparently least happy between 45 and 59. Lots of theories why this may be true and I’m sure individual circumstances play a big role but, unsurprisingly, I have my own theory.

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine                                                                                              He gets me my drinks for free

And he's quick with a joke, or to light up your smoke
But there's some place that he'd rather be

He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me"
As a smile ran away from his face
"Well, I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place"

It’s obvious that our 40’s and 50's are peak years of responsibility in our lives with kids, jobs and maybe aging parents. Very stressful. But there is something else. I wonder if our 40’s is also when we grasp, like John at the bar, that perhaps our big dreams of being the President, a top athlete - or a movie star - are probably not gonna happen. Now you are who you will always will be, pal.

There is also the little matter of understanding that you are now probably closer to the end of your story than the beginning. . .

Later we learn that maybe these things aren't all bad - possibly in our 60’s and 70’s.

Members of the MENSA Senior Golf League

So far we're all on this side of the grass (others of us, not so lucky)

I have often said that I am the luckiest man in the luckiest generation in the history of the world and nothing can change that view; great family, many good friends (most of whom are still vertical) and reasonably good health. I do have regrets, of course, the most important of which is the mess my generation and I have made of so many things in this country, left behind for our kids and grandkids to clean up. I also know that many people have a lot more sad than sweet memories and far less happy or short lives. For that I can only say I'm sorry, good forture - and genes - are not shared equally or fairly by fate and that sucks.

On the other hand, perhaps another positive thing about getting older is that we simply don't have as much time to waste on regrets.  

Finally - and coincidentally - my oldest kid asked me a short while ago if I would want to go back to my mid-30’s which is also said to be one of the happiest periods of life for most people. It was a serious question from someone who deserved a serious answer and not my gut reaction of OMG, YES! I did think about it. I thought of all the sad and sweet memories and decided that, no, I wouldn’t go back. I think - and hope - I’m a better man now than I was then. Also, I’ve gained a lot more than I have lost in all these years so I guess I shall just press on and see if I can make it to a Century.*  

(Of course, now if I could take all my accumulated wisdom back with me . . . hmmm)

I climbed a (small) mountain in Las Cruces.  Did pretty well too, only two guys on crutches and one with a walker passed me - hey, 75 ain't so bad!

* My dad made it almost to 79 and my mom to 92 so I got that going for me. Hopefully there's a few more tunes to be played and memories made.

Sing us the song, you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feelin' alright

Billy Joel will be 74 in May. Thanks, Piano Man, one more to go!

I wouldn't leave you hanging

Piano Man Billy Joel

Bonus: For people of a certain age, one of the greatest songs ever on one of the one the greatest albums ever.

Old Man Neil Young

Observing the (Not So Illusive) Snowbird

Another cold snap so a chance to get back to the post I was going to make earlier when I interrupted myself. 

Life in the Slow Lane

Tres Amigo's - my new best friends from El Paso, Pancho and Sergio                           

On a recent rare nice day while I was out abusing yet another golf course – looked like a herd of prairie dogs had been through when I got done – I noticed the large number of newly laid out lots around the course. There were a bunch more than last year. You pass through a whole bunch of new developments on the way to this course too, also with many new lots. Mostly these are destined for nice, normal, middle class 2/3BR homes; many for us snowbirds, I presume. What a relief to see homes for the average joe. 

Your new home awaits

Anyway this reminded me that I had been thinking about the whole snowbird - and "sunbirds" (people moving south full-time) - thing. 

“Mature” people, snowbirds or what ever they were called, have been packing up and heading south for many years. They'd hitch up the old Airstream and head to the first RV park where they don’t know what a snow shovel is.

As an aside, my mom and dad would have been snowbirds. He always said, “Abe, I just hate the winters.” (Yeah that was his nickname for me, don't know why.) Understandable. Pop did actual work all his life, much of it outdoors and learned to hate winter. Of course, they never had any money for such "nonsense" as heading south in the winter.

Snow birds come in all sizes, shapes and races. The vast majority, as you might guess, are white, 94% to be exact. Also, mature - very mature – 72% are 65 or older and 90% are retired. Mrs Dear Leader and I check all three boxes. Okay only first and last for her; she's calls herself a junior snowbird. (Yeah, whatever.)

From this (snicker) . . .

To this!

As with everything we do, we baby boomers have re-imagined this snowbird thing and taken it to a new level in numbers (and dare I say, extravagance?) Now we buy a $150,000 RV - and don’t forget the car to drag behind it – and head south. 

For many of us, however, there’s no more of this staying in a crappy RV park. No sir, we want a nice condo (okay, I want a nice condo) or maybe even a “little” house.  Come to think of it, we don’t want to worry about renting a place either so let’s just buy a second home! (Not for me - two furnaces, two air conditioners, two roofs, two property taxes. Ugh.) Anyway, this is the natural evolution of things, I guess - God bless America!

Hey, is the wifi free?

And, of course, the prima facie evidence of our embrace of snowbirdism is Florida, Arizona and Texas. They are jam packed in winter with big cars driven by “cue tips” (an endearing term invented by my dear friend DK, long time sunbird in FL) meaning little white heads sticking up above the steering wheel. Very apt. 

You talkin' to me?! 

Okay, this next observation - and opinion - caused Mrs Dear Leader some heartburn. Ergo I suffered heartburn too. After a quiet, thoughtful discussion we just agreed to disagree. 

(On a positive note, the couch in our condo is really quite comfy!)

Separately, this opinion is kind of related to an article I recently read about over-crowding in many well known tourists spots (for which Mrs Dear Leader and I can vouch.) Think Amsterdam, Venice, Rome - Ft Myers or Clearwater in Feb? - and you'll know what they are talking about. One of Pederson's Postulates has long been "Any place you'd want to go to or see is probably too crowded so to hell with it."  (Here's the link to the great article: Over Crowding)

Hopefully that helps you understand where I'm going with this.

As a snowbird – and babyboomer - I sometimes look around and say, "What are we doing here?" Let’s face it, we no longer produce much, if anything, yet we consume a LOT of stuff: housing, roads, restaurants, entertainment and healthcare - lots of healthcare (and don’t forget golf courses!)  So what, you may ask, we all worked hard and deserve whatever kind of retirement we can scrape together and I agree. Yet in our pursuit of our warm paradise, many or even most of the jobs to support us seasonal interlopers (snowbirds) or the permanent sunbirds are essentially low-income service jobs. (Excluding Orthopedic surgeons, of course.) It's not like we're bringing in new companies that make or do things and have good pay and benefits for their workers. 

Not to mention traffic congestion and inflated house prices. 

Home sweet home

I don't know the answer or if an answer is even needed. Perhaps this is all Las Cruces and all the other places we've already overrun should aspire to. Something is better than nothing.

Oh well, to paraphrase Judge Smails in Caddy Shack, the world needs waiters, nail salons, lawn care people and parking lot valets too. (And don't forget golf club cleaners!)

All perfectly honorable jobs

So here we are again in Las Cruces, NM, population 110,000. It’s very much a working class, affordable city with really nice, friendly people. And great weather, although like most places in the SW this year, not as nice as last year thus time to write stuff like this. A relatively few people have been wintering here for many years. With all that's going on I asked one of my new golf buddies if we should plan on Las Cruces turning into a mini-Las Vegas. (Desert, lots of sunshine and little water like Vegas but with neither gambling nor easy way to get here holding it back.) Anyway, he agreed and said, "Yup, give it ten years and a lot more (mostly old) people along with a bunch more Starbucks, Total Wines, Williams Sonoma's, Ruth's Chris steakhouse and, of course, Denny's." (Yes, he's as big a smartass as I am, maybe worse.) And, I might add, lots of knee replacements. Yup, it’s going to be real snowbird paradise.

Okay, this next observation is more of a theory about sunbelt politics. 

It's no secret that millions of people have moved to sunbelt states over the past 20 years (and it has certainly done wonders for the water issue out here!) They move for many reasons: house prices, jobs or taxes but mostly for better weather. Coincidentally, it's also no secret that many winter escapees seem to have some strong conservative opinions on things, e.g. how great life was in 1957 and how it sucks today (think The Villages in FL and Sun City in AZ.) Makes me wonder if that's related to the fact that so many formerly sane states like Florida, Texas and Arizona have gone batshit crazy. (Okay, none of them were ever really sane by normal standards but still they were saner.) That's not even to mention having a very powerful political voice – do NOT cross the AARP! 

New Mexico is a solidly blue state so perhaps if it goes red over the next several years that might prove my theory. Or maybe not, maybe that's where we're all headed rather we want to or not. 

(Remember, just a theory . . .)  

So I should grab them like this?
Pod, meet two peas - our past and future?

Back to facts, finally there is this: 10,000 boomers turn 65 EVERY DAY. That’s a lot of potential snow birds! On the other hand, 5,500 of us are also keeling over every day which means that by about 2040 my generation will essentially be like the Dodo bird – gone, kaput, extinct. (In fact, 30% of us have already gone to the Big Clubhouse in the sky.) Anyway, the smaller generations behind us have a lot of sandals with black socks to fill. Not to mention also lots of houses, condos, RVs and all you can eat buffets. (Just kidding, we boomers do NOT eat at buffets.)

So enjoy your life as a quiet backwater town, Las Cruces, because the seniors are coming, the seniors are coming! 

(In fairness, there is a LOT of room in NM, it's the 5th largest state but with only 2 million people - though most of it is desert or mountains.)

Okay, sorry, couldn't help myself about this - Monte Python Old Lady Gang)

Epilogue:

I understand that I am a hypocrite and am speaking out of both sides of my mouth but at least I know it. In any event, I vow to be a good tipper wherever we are. Also, I will only own one house at a time.

A little apropos music:

Snowbird Anne Murray

And in case that left you feeling too happy try this: 

Back When We Were Beautiful  Emmy Lou Harris

You are all still beautiful, my friends. . .

Geezers Share Their Wisdom . . .

  . . . Hard Earned Wisdom

Serendipity strikes again! I was just about to waste a day or two of New Mexico weather too chilly (for me) to play golf in order to write some boring thing about babyboomers retiring then moving to and screwing up yet another beautiful area. When suddenly into my inbox pops a post by a young man who regularly writes thought provoking articles. 

I have often jokingly (I think) said that wisdom, as it relates to getting older, is overrated. In fact, I might be willing to trade 10 or 20 years of wisdom for 5 or 10 years of youth. While that may still be true, I recently learned that I might want to be very careful of what I traded; stuff that I thought was worthless might not be. Who knew, I might actually know good stuff! (Take that my doubting Thomas friends!)

Okay, I'm sorry, that's not funny, just a little Soylent Green humor

This young writer’s name is Sahil Bloom and he writes a newsletter that I now receive twice a week. In it he simply talks about things that he is learning as he goes through life. Big deal, you might say, we could all do that and perhaps so but I’ll bet you couldn’t make it as meaningful or interesting as he does. Also, did I mention the dude is only 32? 

He caught my eye with something he wrote a while ago when talking about visiting his parents: 

He lives on the west coast his parents on the east. He told a friend that he was going home to visit and his friend asked how old his parents were. Sahil told him they were in their early 70’s. His friend asked how often he sees them. He replied once a year. So, his friend then casually said, Sahil would probably only see his parents about 10 or maybe 15 more times. Boooinngggg, that got Sahil's attention! It got mine too but from the opposite end of that equation. I subscribed.

Which brings me to the latest revelation of this 32 year old wunderkind who started this article with this:

Every year on my birthday (January 5), I like to conduct some interesting exercise that will push me to grow in a new way. This year, I asked a number of 90-year-olds a simple question: "If you could speak to your 32-year-old self, what advice would you give?"

(I must say that certainly reminds me of my 32 year old self. Well, okay, those might not have been my exact words. In fact, it might have been closer to, “My God, how do you keep that belt above your belly?!" or "How do you make an efficient beer bong?”)

Anyway, he shared 40 different answers (none of which covered the urgent belt or beer questions.) I will just share a few to give you an idea of wisdom shared. (Answers in italics, Bloom's comments after.)

-        "No amount of money is ever worth trading for your peace of mind." ("Money often costs too much." - Ralph Waldo Emerson) 

-        "You may occasionally disappoint others, but make sure to never disappoint yourself." (You may let others down, but never let yourself down.) 

-        "Tell your partner you love them every night before falling asleep." (Someday you’ll find the other side of the bed empty and wish you could.) 

-        "Treat your body like a house you have to live in for another 70 years." (Invest in keeping the foundation and structure sound. A little bit of regular maintenance can go a long way.) 

-        "Always remind yourself that your track record for making it through your bad days is perfect." (It's easy to lose sight of this when you're down. Zoom out and reclaim your perspective.) 

And one that has recently taken on new meaning for me . . . (We stoic Norwegians aren't much for hugging - but apparently we can learn.) 

-        "Whenever you hug someone, make sure they are the one to let go first." (Treat every hug like it could be your last. You never know when it will be.)

The rest are equally simple and somehow pithy but I think you get the point. There are some pretty smart geezers out there (and a pretty smart 32 year old.) I think we all know a lot of these things but we either forget them or we just don’t think they are very important. They are.

It’s too late to help our 32 year old selves but I bet there are kids and grandkids who could use this wisdom of the ages (if you can get them to put down their damn phones long enough!)

Dear Leader and the Missus in a few years (I got your wisdom right here!)

(I wish I had thought to ask my 92 year old mom this question before she went to the Big Bowling Alley in the sky. I suspect she would have said something like "Try not to be a dumbass," which is good advice too.)

Anyway, the newsletter is called Curiosity Chronical by Sahil Bloom. If you are a curious person - as in you like to know stuff, not your odd personality - you might like to give it a try. (It's free, big spender.) 

Sahil Bloom Curiosity Chronical

PS

Only 15 years, 1 month and 13 days until anyone will be asking me for my wisdom! 

The Last Solstice?

Again I reach way back into the archives for this solstice story. It's one of my favorites because it was such a special year. In fact, there will be a well-earned ✋for those knowledgeable folks who know what year this was written in. (Or for those grammar nazi's among you, the year in which it was written.) All the clues you need are there.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Song of the Goat

"It is not often that you will hear a goat bleating for no apparent reason, and if you do, it most often signals that something is wrong. Act immediately!"

Ancient Greek saying

I think those old Greek guys were saying that some things are unmistakable in their meaning and in this case, the goat sees that danger is near. Perhaps our goat has been bleating for quite some time but we just didn’t recognize it. (Which in hindsight, given the last few years, was really true.)

This year it is necessary not just to plead for the sun to return but for something for it to return to.

This really gets my goat!

We all knew it was going to come to this, didn’t we? Unless you live in a cave - or you're like my dear friend now living in Las Vegas who is 50% of an idiot savant (and not the savant part) regarding pop culture - you know that according to highly reliable sources the end of life as we know it will occur on or after the solstice, Dec. 21 this year. No really, it’s all over but the shouting.

Apparently, the Mayans, the Hopi Indians, Nostradamus and Edgar Cayce – and several Wall Street analysts - all predicted this so it must be true (see, I watch Discovery Channel.) On this solstice the earth and the sun are aligned with the Dark Rift (the center of the Milky Way galaxy.) This only happens every 26,000 years - look it up - and I guess that means that it curtains for us. (Ignoring for the moment that would mean that the world ended 26,000 years ago too.)
 

It's apparently about 10 min's til doom 

I know, I know, this is all a bunch of hooey; there’s no way that this is going to happen, blah, blah, blah and I agree (I think) but bear with me. How do we really know what’s going to happen on any given day let alone such an auspicious date as Dec. 21, 20XX?  

In short, we don’t. For example, I have long wondered about that time 66 million years ago when that meteor or comet or whatever crashed into the earth killing all the dinosaurs. (Apparently not far from where Cancun is today - imagine what that would do to the time share business!) 

As an interesting aside, did you know that there is an amusement park (not surprisingly in Kentucky) called the Creation Museum that has, among other interesting displays, one that shows, and I quote, “Children play and dinosaurs roam near Eden’s Rivers.” This apparently happened about six thousand years ago. Kids and dinosaurs together. Six thousand years ago. Who knew?! 

Anyway, imagine yourself as one of those big, galoot, dinosaurs with a brain the size of a walnut, (only somewhat smaller than mine and that of anyone who plays golf) peering up into the southern sky and seeing some bright, burning object. Do you think they looked at their partner and said, “Well, my dear, it appears that we are doomed.” No, they almost certainly stood staring, mouth open like some Millenial Gen Z Tik Tok watching, i Phone-staring, X Box playing slacker and said “Whuuh?” So, maybe even with our somewhat bigger brain we’re not really able to see the danger either.

Whoa, Dude, that's really bright!

Well, I’m not going to just sit here and take whatever those ancient @!&holes throw at me! Did we give up when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?! (Another Special Solstice award for anyone who recognizes the classic movie this bon mot came from. Or again for Grammar Nazi's, the movie from which this bon mot came.) No, and I’m not going to quit now either. I’m going to do something, damn it! I’m going to resist the common-sense response of panic! I’m going to use my “big brain” and fight back! I’m going to do the natural - and male - thing . . . I’m going to beg! (And apparently use exclamation marks egregiously!)

Now, take a look at this, gods, fate, Bringer of Death or whoever you are:

Geez, what did Lambie and I do wrong to deserve this?

Ah, the hell with it - badminton anyone?

 

Are you willing to wipe out a planet that has creatures like this? Creatures who are loyal, loving, playful, patient, nap a lot and sniff each other to say hello? (Most of which traits, except for napping, humans do not share.) Well, if you are then I say take us all because a universe that perverse and mean spirited is not a place I want to live in anyway.

But if, after this simple plea, I wake up the day after the solstice (with all my most important parts intact) then I will know that begging - and/or cute dog pictures - works and there is some reason to keep fighting the good fight; I will gladly go back to my annual pleading for the days to get longer. 

Of course, if I – no - if WE don’t wake up then everyone will be spared said pleading along with other unpleasant things like going to work, taxes, politicians, mouthy kids, people texting while driving or talking on cell phones while golfing and wearing Depends. (Ugh, nevermind that last part.)
 

Dear Leader's pensive and hopeful great uncle twice removed staring into the winter sky

On that note I leave you and say, see you on the 22^nd, my friends (I hope). 

Happy Holidays to all!

Your Dear Leader and Solstice Warrior, 

D Roger P

 

PS 

Hold your kids tight and as often as you can . . . because you just never know.

PPS

If you guessed that my begging succeeded that year, very good!

Pix from 2021 Solstice S'More Soiree 

A new generation of Solstice lovers

Don't hog the fire!

Isn't Dear Leader wonderful?
(Not really, no)

Two Bad Christmas Songs and One Good One (you decide which is which)

Little Saint Nick Beach Boys

Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer

Please Come Home for Christmas Martina McBride