America’s Supply of Classic Rock Stars Quickly Dwindling
https://t.co/iYxUBjCway pic.twitter.com/TG85pBeYUP
— Cafe (@cafedotcom) January 19, 2016Dear Humans, Sorry I keep taking all your greatest musicians. I promise I'll get to the lawyers again soon. Love, God
— God (@TheGoodGodAbove) January 19, 2016
With the recent passing of David Bowie and Glenn Frey, among others, it seems a chunk of my twenty-something years has disappeared. I’d almost lost sight of the fact that Bowie was 69 and Frey 67; they’d always felt timeless in my estimation. It’s almost as if I expected them to be around for the duration as part of the backdrop and soundtrack of my life. Now those voices have fallen silent, and I’m left to ponder the reality that none of us will get out of here alive.
I don’t obsess about death, but I do find it to be something increasingly lodged in the outer bands of my consciousness. I’ll be 56 in April, not old by any means (try telling that to my body every morning as I drag myself slowly out from under the covers), but far along enough to know that, barring something of an actuarial miracle, I’m on the back end of the bell curve. I wonder sometimes about the life I’ve led. Has it been a good one? Have I done more good than harm? Am I responsible for more smiles than pain? Have I done it right? How can I know?
Truthfully, it feels like it might be a good time for an existential crisis, but I’m going to hold off on that for now. There’s some truth to be found in the words of Satchel Paige: “Don’t look back; someone might be gaining on you.” Even truer is that I, like any human, lack the ability to change what’s come before. I can’t change the past, and I can’t begin to know what the future holds. All I really have is this moment, where I am right now. Living with that knowledge, living in the moment, has proven to be a significant challenge. Like anyone else, I have regrets and I want my future to be an improvement on the present and the past. I’m learning (albeit slowly) that focusing and the past or the future is a great way to rob myself of the joy of the present moment. After all, how can you enjoy now when you’re obsessing over what’s happened and/or what’s to come?
It’s funny- at least to me; I look at myself in the mirror and while the man looking back at me is in his mid-50s, my reaction is invariably “WTF?? When did this happen?” And yet it’s happened, and I suppose I should be happy about it- if for no other reason than it sure as Hell beats the alternative. I don’t feel like someone three months away from 56, though the graying hair is winning the battle and the six-pack is most definitely losing it.
When I look back, I hope I’ve done more good than harm. I hope I’ve been the reason for more smiles than tears. More than anything, I hope that my presence here has been a net positive, that when I shuffle off this mortal coil I’ll be leaving this world a bit better than I found it. It’s not been the life I expected, but how many of us can say that we’re living the life we thought we would be? I’ve come to appreciate and enjoy the surprises, the twists and turns, the curve balls life has thrown my way.
I know I’m an incredibly fortunate to be where I am, and I’m fully aware of the pain, the heartache, and the joys and triumphs that have brought me here. As I focus on living in the moment, I can only hope there are plenty of tomorrows for me to practice in the hope I might yet get it right.
And while I’m busy trying to get things right, could you please stop killing off my youth piece by piece?
