Beneath the Spin * Eric L. Wattree
THE BOOMERS
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Where are those idealistic kids that we once were? I thought time was standing still and I would be young forever. But time hasn't stood still. Now when I brush my teeth in the morning I'm looking at that crotchety old guy that I never took seriously as a youngster. I thought I just missed a "love-in," not forty years!!! It's unreal, because I don't feel that way. I'm still thinking the very same thoughts that I did in my twenties, and I've held up pretty well. But now, with grey hair sprouting like Spring, and "my babies," whose jaws I so loved to kiss now in their forties, and my beautiful young wife that I loved so desperately in the grave, it says it all. I now have grandchildren older than I was when my late wife and I fell in love.
But in spite of all that, sometimes I forget how the time has flown, only to be reminded by life in no uncertain terms, like when I run into young gangsters in the liquor store and they say, "What's happening OG (original gangster)?" Or like a couple of months ago when I noticed this gorgeous woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties staring at me in a restaurant. I have a woman so while I was flattered, I just nodded and smiled. But before she left, she turned around and started walking toward my table. As she was walking toward me I was thinking, "Wow, how am I going to get out of this gracefully?" But when she got up to the table she said, "SIR, I really love your salt and pepper beard. It reminds me of my father's . . . before he died." I could barely hide my disappointment. So life is telling me that I'm clearly no longer a kid, and I have more life behind me than I have to look forward to.
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I want all that back. I want to relive the sixties and seventies - but savor it this time, with the understanding that once it's gone, it can never be recaptured. This time I won't take it for granted, I swear. But I guess that's what heaven is all about, playing a bad imitation of John Coltrane to congas and gyrating beauties in Griffith Park, and nurturing sweet dreams of what life holds in store.
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| BEST MAN AT CHARLES MEEKS' WEDDING SHOWING OFF MY PRECIOUS BABIES - I STILL SEE 'EM THIS WAY, AND IT SEEMS LIKE YESTERDAY. |
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We were about love, and knowledge, and celebrating life. We were about anti-war, anti-bigotry, and people coming together, regardless of their race, creed, color or sexual orientation. We were engaged, and we held the establishment's feet to the fire. We forced a president to resign, ended mandatory conscription, demanded the end of a war, and we forced equality for women and minorities. We had it together. The world had never seen anything like us before.
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So I want to take this opportunity to say, well done Boomers. Yeah, we got a little high and raised a little hell at Woodstock and a jazz festival or two, but we had style, and intelligence, and we did ourselves proud. History will remember us fondly . . . And just think, they tried to call us crazy. America should be so crazy today.
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But Boomers, we have a job that is yet to be completed. Those of us who are still around need to dedicate the rest of our lives to transforming America; our brothers and sisters who are now gone expect it of us. So let us keep the flame burning, and not let them down.
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ONE FOR BOOMER
Receding hairline, failing vision,
hair now turning grey,
an aging boomer in final protest,
Father Time his foe this day.
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Donning his headband, tie-dyed jeans,
and scorched draft card of protests past,
he set out for one last battle,
as in his youth that had quietly passed.
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Ode to an aging Boomer,
a different kind of man;
colleagues all now in the wind,
as he makes his final stand.
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But he found no placards or the sound of Trane,
no passionate speeches in the gentle rain,
no pretty girls wearing mini skirts,
and no solemn guards on pig alert.
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All he found was a new America,
and more freedom across this land;
the fruit of his struggle
for women's equality,
and the rights of his fellow man.
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He found Martin, Chavez, and Malcolm X,
all standing by his side;
He found Thomas Jefferson
and all his forefathers
beaming down with pride.
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He found minority children across this land
whose reach now exceed their grasp;
He found Jim Crow angrily cursing him,
as he takes his final gasp.
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He found pride as an aging boomer,
more hero, than common man;
He found a quirky old fart embraced by history,
for having the courage to take a stand.
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Alone, an aging Boomer,
fellow travelers now in the wind;
but one last time he limps to his trench,
to defend his fellow man.
Eric L. Wattree
wattree.blogspot.com
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