Sweet Thursday

Friday I'm in Love

Would it be better for my life to be a chapter out of a John Steinbeck novel? Sometimes it's more like Forrest Gump's experiences. I've arrived to the time of the Beatles' song, "When I'm Sixty-four." I've already applied for medicare that will kick in during May of this year. I've got elderly issues that I suppose I never envisioned on myself.

In the Year Two Thousandddddd

In the late 1950's and early '60's, there was a "Year 2000 Plan" diorama up at the Rockville Civic Center. This was at that time in blue collar Rockville, the county seat of what is now one of the most affluent counties in the U.S. They eventually tore down the little downtown with its 19th century buildings and put up modern buildings, tall and askance to the street.

They later turned out to be 'white elephants'. Before they tore it down, there used to be a place called the "Zen Den." A kind of poor man's CBGB club. I visited it once, maybe twice, had subdued lighting, alternative music.

♫ It's all happening at the zoo, I do believe it, I do believe it's true....

But, what's happening -- (or how we used to say it, "Whas happen--nningning?" --now? Well, this week's been slim pickin's (remember him riding down that B-52 on the way to nuke Russia?) I will go teach High School music tomorrow. Last week I had a couple of days. My last years tax return, that after three tries finally got, will be gone soon. Will I make it to my pension check? Does it matter? Because house payment, car payment, and then the storage bin full of three decades worth of junk that's too good to throw away, but we were going to move....and it's not needed right now. My fish tank, teak desk and bookshelves. A bike, boxes of knick knacks that would make Oprah's hoarders blush.

Why is my life like Forrest's? Well, I was in school the day JFK's assassination was announced. It was art class. There were two students, a brother and sister who'd gotten out of Red China. They were superb at using an exacto knife to cut folded paper like fine lace. Then when I was in college, I lived off campus, but very near the university. I shared a room with a guy who had spent a lot of time in Africa. He was very opinionated and he liked to drink....a lot. Well, I was a relatively poor tea totaler, so that wasn't my thing. But, anyway, he got some mail from a friend over there, and was unbelievably distraught. It seems people he knew were hacked up by the Mao Mao. So he was drunk and angry crying, not a pretty scene. I was verbally abused when defending the Lyndon Johnson status quo by a guy, real tall, long hair and beard, who had transferred from Berkeley. He was also reading a book about the fall of the Roman Empire, so he would yell, "Barbarian!" at me when I'd try defending the deployment in Vietnam.

Eventually, I got radicalized, too, and one day while there were protests on US Route One, tear gas went into the girls dorm, and a bunch of us were enraged. I said, "Let's go back down the hill toward the Guard," and we did. We saw Jane Fonda speak to us on the campus mall there. Somewhere I have 16mm film of those days. I sure wasn't threatened by Vietnamese paddling over here, so I sure as heck didn't want to be drafted to fight them. (I eventually got too high a draft lottery number, but my school deferrment went south, and I even had a C.O. going for me, but, eventually I went for a pre-draft physical at Fort Holobird in Baltimore.) I would argue with my father, who worked as an engineer for the Federal government, who who answer my complaints about Johnson, "Best president we ever had." Things, of course, seem to be worse with Nixon, though my father did not like him, either, he still was an old school hawk. I was a multi-colored dove. This is the time I started going to concerts there, like Jefferson Airplane and the James Gang.

I barely graduated, many classes were cancelled my senior year. After success as a Psych major, "Statistics of Psychology"'s D made me switch to become an Art major. Swirling bright colors, swelling from my soul visually, like Jimi Hendrix's did aurally. I couldn't get a job after I graduated, I rode on a guy's moving van truck to many places I'd never seen before, St. Ignace Michigan, Columbia, SC, Virginia Beach and elsewhere. He was from Oakland, MD. One day in downtown New York City, he had gone down under the overhead train line -- as the ceiling height got bit by bit lower and lower, until, Stan had to stop and back up. Well, he jack knifed--just a little bit-- but enough to Wham! hit the back doors on the vertical steel I-beam. He hated New York before he got to it, this solidified his animosity.

I married my college co-partyer. She actually was the friend of a girl I was after, but was pinned to someone else. Eventually, this girl broke up with him, and went with a student whose father was a Baltimore podiatrist. He looked and sounded like Alan Alda, except maybe a little more like Johnny Depp with the beard and hair. We would smoke and play the boardgame Stratego. Anyway, eventually we all lived together in those last college days of the ex, while she finished getting her degree. Ironic, it was special ed, which is what I sub for a lot now, these days.

Then the Post Office job, a little house in that college town. Then we were evangelized (I stayed with those seeds), but eventually the realization, after being real straight, we really shouldn't be together. I was devastated for a while, did a lot of stupid things...

Fast forward to early Reagan years, I joined the Army Reserves, would've stayed a Green Beret, but didn't pass the Airborne training....so off to a Hospital Unit.

Re married, moved. A more steady Christian. And a discovery of E2 in the summer of 2001. Did I miss anything? Well, there's other time for daylogs....I hope. But, I did have an appendectomy two years ago, and lately a fistulaecthomy. For me life is like a box of Feenamints, you do know what it can do to you.

Am I getting headaches again because I stopped taking my ACE inhibitors? Vitamin D's replaced my SSRI's. {No, it might be too much fluids}. (Let me digress here. When I came back from that gut operation after 6 weeks disablity, my shift changed and my line and place on it. My cat of 16 years died. I needed something, it helped for a good while, then, I decided I might be better without them. They take your whole gamut of emotions, I think.)

Old people have answers for you, but a bunch of us have many of our own questions.

♫ Will you still need me, will you still feed me When I'm sixty-four?♫

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