I’m in the October of my years. I complain about the cold, whimper about what a dollar doesn’t buy any more, gripe about gas prices and mourn the passing of my good looks. I’m not the man I used to think I was. I knew I was going to seed when my waist size moved past my leg length. I used to buy shampoo for oily hair, now I need all the moisturizing conditioner I can get. My hair has faded between black and grey and I look for all the world like some grizzled old badger. With the advent of crow’s feet and eye bags I almost miss pimples.
This month I turned fifty-two. One advantage of passing fifty is all my favourite music is dirt cheap. I’m no longer a slave to fashion and I’m settled enough to accept, if not be content with, my lot in life. I saw a bumper sticker once that said, “It used to be wine, women and song. Now it’s beer, the old lady and television.” Aside from the beer part I can pretty much identify with it. Like an aging dog I’m content to lie around the yard rather than thrill to chasing cars by the road.
It’s been awhile since I heard Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs sing “Woolly Bully” or Question Mark and the Mysterians immortal hit, “Shaking all Over“. They were later known as the Guess Who. They sold out to Coca Cola with a jingle based on the song, “Shaking All over for a Coca Cola”. Sounds like crack cocaine withdrawal doesn’t it? In order to hear this vintage rock I have to dial into Tisdale Saskatchewan to 750 on the AM dial. Late at night there’s CKXL, if I’m not mistaken, out of Calgary Alberta on 660 AM . Such desperate measures are not required, however, if one hit’s the CD bins at Wal-Mart. I picked up the greatest hits of Grand Funk Railroad (all two of them) for five dollars. The greatest hits packages of Brenda Lee, Nat King Cole, Patty Page, Johnny Horton (no relation to Tim), Herman’s Hermits, and The Dave Clark Five are all there cheap, cheap, cheap. One can only wonder why.
I’m drawn toward the Arnold Palmer collection of men’s clothing at Sears. Pastels now appeal to me and bargains jump out at me when I cruise the aisles in Value Village. I actually enjoy shopping at Peavy Mart. I wonder what it would be like to take a Carnival Cruise and I even thought about owning a Winnebago RV but I’ll settle for a tent trailer instead. Me, the world’s oldest teenager, is now getting old despite myself. I may soon need a fire permit to light up my birthday cake.
Life’s road has actually been pretty good to me, aside from some potholes like the 70’s and the 80’s. I still have my own teeth, my appendix and most of my hair. I don’t need a hearing aid but I do wear bifocals. My wife still finds me lovable and huggable. I have a warm place to sleep and food in the fridge. That’s a lot more than some people.
January is a difficult time to muse about one’s birthday. As I write this the temperature has dropped to minus thirty plus with some kind of horrible wind chill factor thrown on top. Not a good time to stick your tongue on a stop sign. The daylight is still short. The vehicle is plugged in and the dog is spending the night in the almost warm porch. It’s colder and darker than an Indian agents heart. A few years ago it hit minus fifty two on Keeseekoose Reserve. Those people lucky enough to keep their vehicle running found their tires low and if they tried to fill them up the valves froze open and the tires lost all pressure. The ones that kept moving clumped around on low tires. Now that’s cold.
My old dad says the long ago Crees believed the sun made fires to keep himself warm during cold weather, which explains the origin of sundogs. In any case I can’t help but feel the misery of the coldest days of winter coupled with my advancing years has brought about this deep funk. In such times there is one sure fire cure to lift my spirits. I’m headed for Wal-Mart in order to raid the CD bargain bin. If I’m lucky I may find Tommy James and the Shondells singing “Crystal Blue Persuasion” or some other escapist music best heard on a good Sony Walkman.
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