Sunday, April 1, 2007

Middle Age - Dat Be Whack, Yo*

* In some urban areas, "dat be whack" is an expression of deep concern, and possibly dissatisfaction, over something. "Yo" may be roughly translated as, "and I really mean it." For example, "The Dow Industrial Average decreased by nearly 100 points on reports of a downturn in petroleum futures and concerns over inflation? Dat be whack, yo."

The good thing about early Sunday morning hours is that they're quiet, and I get to sit and think. The bad thing about them is that they're quiet, and I get to sit and think. This morning, the thoughts are of having "life experience." You know...middle age.

 
Yes, I know. It's bad enough I've added one more blog to the world. Now I'm using that blog to give the world one more entry about middle age. But you see, this one is different from all those other people writing about reaching middle age. This one is about ME reaching middle age. I don't know about you, but for me, this is a key difference.
While not every effect nature's process has had will be discussed here <ahem>, there
are a few examples I'll share.
My hair is longer in back, down to about the base of my neck. The mid-life crisis period is, if nothing else, a call to action. When you can't afford a canary yellow corvette, when no 20 year-old co-ed will give you a second look, and when - crisis or not - you're still not crazy enough to sky-dive or bungee-jump, there aren't a lot of options left. Hence, the hair. My family appears to be ok with this, though my sons did advise me to grow it longer on the sides too, lest it start looking like a mullet. This, I've been led to believe, would be considered the ultimate step in the embarrassing-your-kids process.
 
I'm ok with the fact that I'm an older man to the women in my class of fourth year college students. What's harder to accept is realizing that a man half my age is an older man to them.
 
Even my cel phone has gotten involved. I wear it on my belt, and keep it on vibrate. I cannot tell you, dear reader, how many times I've reached down to answer a call, only to find out it was just some internal body part rumbling.
 
Still, we are here, and happy, and that is something. And you know, now that the sun is up I'm remembering  corvettes are ok, but the really cool guys cruise in a Saturn station wagon. As long as it's freshly washed. And driven by a guy with life experience.

6 comments:

rdautumnsage said...

You can't be much older than I dear one, on the contrary I believe kids are just aging faster than we ever did. I have long since mourned the lost of our vocabulary of olden days. The lingo these days gives one to wonder, how the next generation might even decide it's rude to be polite. But alas the world does evolve around us......I find when you are content with what is within you, you dance to the beat of a different drummer. Having said that could it be you and I are not older simply satisfied with the steps we have learned in this dance? I would rather be me, than be noticed by this latest generation and the artificial intelligence they seem to play at. Superiority reaks of insecurity. As for the mullet, I agree it would be more attractive to grow it long all over, than just the back. Kudo's for your sons for having pointed that out (winks). So at the end of the day, I find my hair grows shorter in defiance of aging and yours dear one grows longer. What an odd dance, I believe the drummer must of skipped a beat (smiling). (Hugs) Indigo

oldhousegal said...

Ben- I will overlook your near mullet as long as you promise never to resort to the come-over or, worse, start wearing a cheap toupee.  The last time I wanted my hair long, I was fifteen and had hair I could sit on.  Now, I can't imagine what the fascination was.  I am currently trying for the 10-year old boy look:  very short with bangs and little slivers of hair in front of my ears to mimic sideburns.  (Of course, as I approach the half-century mark, the sideburns may not be fake for long.)  I suppose we all have to go through this and we each find our own form of madness to express our unease at the thought of being old and what comes after being old.  My favorite role model for the female mid-life crisis is Kathleen Turner in The War of the Roses.  I can still see her totally tricked out Jeep Cherokee crushing her no-good hubby's sports car (was it a corvette?).  Now there's a woman!  -Sandy

gypsiwoman said...

Ben, You are a truly gifted writer. Methinks you have finally given voice (albeit an electronic one) to the muse within. No doubt she thanks you immensely.

Ballo ergo sum.

Always and all ways,
Gitana

lilpriasebaybee1 said...

Good day Ben,
This is your friend over here from missing something. Just wanted to stop by and se how you are doing. I have been away for a while. Thanks for your advice and that sweet verse from our favorite book the bible
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28
Wonderful, thank you. i needed that.

jen73169 said...

What a great entry..... I'm glad I stumbled across (or is that over?) you.
Jennifer

therealslimemmy said...

i loved reading this entry lmao at the cell phone/bodypartrumble ;)
ttyl
em