While I was driving home yesterday, I saw a man, looked to be in his mid 60s. His hair was somewhere between gray and white. He was driving a small SUV. And both his hands were locked hard on the wheel. And while staring through his thick glasses, he bobbed his head, keeping the beat to a song I could only begin to imagine. There we were, driving down the same expressway, at the same time, 40 years separated, separated by clothes, cars, morals, ideals, experiences, memories, and hair color, but for a moment in time, we were the same person. The same, music blasting, head bobbing, carelessly mumbling lyrics guys, cruising along the pavement. By living in our own musically driven world, we inherently breached those same boundaries in a passing glimpse of each other lives. Did he see me and think about what his life was like when he was 24 years old? Well that I'll never know. Kinda doubt he had car stereos for him to rock out to. But I can assure you, I looked at him, and immediately wondered what kind of man I would become.
And that question didn't fall into the usual, unbelievably complex and side winding thought strand that I have been known to spit out. It came down to one, simple, elegant, perfectly precise question: When I am 65 years old, driving home after renewing my license, will I still be grooving to some song from my young years, rocking out to Disturbed on the classic rock station, moving my shoulders to Dre on the classic rap station, or simply smiling and singing to Counting Crows on the oldies station? See? Precise.
Obviously this question has an answer that won't come for 40 years, but I can tell you this, I will do everything I can to maintain the happiness and freedom of my 'youth.' I know that with every year that adds on, more responsibilities, more people depending, more expenses, more worries, stresses, illnesses, deaths, and the like, all add on too. And it is normal to be content with those transitions. I don't think it's a matter of maturity. But I hope that as I age, and when 25 becomes 35 and becomes 45, that as these numbers keep flying by like a street light from a roller coaster, I can do my best to always have a thumb on top of my younger days.
I don't anticipate this to be easy, and I know this whole idea is a little cliche, but I just don't want to grab a box from a closet one day to see my Collective Soul tape fall out and realize I haven't heard a song from the 90s in months. And I don't want to be caught up watching the new 2031 fall crop of NBC's regurgitated cop dramas without popping in my recently ordered complete series of O.C. DVDs. And I don't want to be in the theaters for the apocalyptic thriller, '2040,' without enjoying a private screening of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in my living room some time.
And I want to be able to pick up a wiffle ball bat and laugh. And I want to buy a hot wheels car for my son, and secretly just pick out the one that I'll play with when he goes to bed. And I want to be able to sing the Toys 'R' Us song like I did in my 6th grade talent show.
But most of all, when the weather is nice, assuming we still have nice weather in 20 years, and when my windows are down, assuming we still have cars with windows in 20 years, I want to throw in my mix CD from the 90s, assuming we still have CD players in 20 years, and I want to crank that sonuvabitch until the speakers are ready to explode, and for a moment, for a passing relapse in an otherwise occupied life, more import than remembering what it was like to be 24 and young, I want to be 65 and free as an escaped kite, floating away under the sun, basking in the life I have lived.
And that question didn't fall into the usual, unbelievably complex and side winding thought strand that I have been known to spit out. It came down to one, simple, elegant, perfectly precise question: When I am 65 years old, driving home after renewing my license, will I still be grooving to some song from my young years, rocking out to Disturbed on the classic rock station, moving my shoulders to Dre on the classic rap station, or simply smiling and singing to Counting Crows on the oldies station? See? Precise.
Obviously this question has an answer that won't come for 40 years, but I can tell you this, I will do everything I can to maintain the happiness and freedom of my 'youth.' I know that with every year that adds on, more responsibilities, more people depending, more expenses, more worries, stresses, illnesses, deaths, and the like, all add on too. And it is normal to be content with those transitions. I don't think it's a matter of maturity. But I hope that as I age, and when 25 becomes 35 and becomes 45, that as these numbers keep flying by like a street light from a roller coaster, I can do my best to always have a thumb on top of my younger days.
I don't anticipate this to be easy, and I know this whole idea is a little cliche, but I just don't want to grab a box from a closet one day to see my Collective Soul tape fall out and realize I haven't heard a song from the 90s in months. And I don't want to be caught up watching the new 2031 fall crop of NBC's regurgitated cop dramas without popping in my recently ordered complete series of O.C. DVDs. And I don't want to be in the theaters for the apocalyptic thriller, '2040,' without enjoying a private screening of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in my living room some time.
And I want to be able to pick up a wiffle ball bat and laugh. And I want to buy a hot wheels car for my son, and secretly just pick out the one that I'll play with when he goes to bed. And I want to be able to sing the Toys 'R' Us song like I did in my 6th grade talent show.
But most of all, when the weather is nice, assuming we still have nice weather in 20 years, and when my windows are down, assuming we still have cars with windows in 20 years, I want to throw in my mix CD from the 90s, assuming we still have CD players in 20 years, and I want to crank that sonuvabitch until the speakers are ready to explode, and for a moment, for a passing relapse in an otherwise occupied life, more import than remembering what it was like to be 24 and young, I want to be 65 and free as an escaped kite, floating away under the sun, basking in the life I have lived.
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