What do we want from life? Growing up, I saw life as a voyage through everything I could think of, success in all endeavors, and most of all (as the late, great Brian Wilson wrote), “Fun, fun, fun!”
Much to my surprise, most of my dreams came true. I’m blessed with kids, grandchildren and great-grands, a rickety, art-filled old house shared by the love of my life and three noisy young dogs. There are bookshelves everywhere, overflowing with thousands of books. Like most hoarders, I don’t get rid of things – I just get more.
So here I am, surrounded by the detritus of decades, and spending much of my time in the past. Karen says I should make new friends, get out in the world and enjoy every day – after all, in my 85th year, every day is precious. I guess it’s a good idea to find new friends, since so many of my longtime pals have thoughtlessly croaked, but I dunno … if only I were a fit young fellow of 70!
So I read, take care of the dogs, clean the house, read some more, feed the dogs and repeat indefinitely. My cloistered life sometimes takes strange turns, particularly when friends from the past unexpectedly call. Here’s a transcript, as best I can remember.
“Hey John, it’s your old friend Bill S. You remember – we grew up together so many years ago.”
Much to my surprise, most of my dreams came true.
Me: “Bill, so good to hear from you! Where are you now, what are you doing, and how’s life?” We chatted for a while, and then reminisced about our girlfriends past and present. Like me, Bill had been quite the womanizer in his younger days, but had calmed down in old age. He asked me whether I had any girlfriends.
“I have two,” I said facetiously. “Both English girls – Jane Austen and Edith Wharton. I can only hang out with one at a time – I don’t think they’d be into a threesome.”
Bill, clearly unschooled in 19th and early 20th century English literature, was envious.
“You’ve got two English chicks?! How old are they?”
“A gentleman doesn’t ask,” I answered snootily, “But I’d guess in their 60s. They’re both writers, so we have a lot in common.”
“You haven’t changed!,” Bill exclaimed. “How does Karen deal with this? At our age, she’s probably glad you have a couple of friends.”
Bill was right, of course. While it’s easy enough to go to sponsored geezer events and talk about geezerdom, you can’t replace lifelong friendships or even lifelong acquaintanceships. And happily, thanks to our classmate Jean Sitkowski (née Knight), the Colorado Springs High School class of 1958 will celebrate our collective 85th birthday at a downtown restaurant on Aug. 20. I was only there for senior year, having gone to Fountain Valley until I was kicked out in 1957, but I loved it. No sports, no extracurricular activities, no worries. The classes were easy, there were beautiful girls to date, and friends to hang out with. I didn’t participate in any school activities – I’d cordially despised all of them at Fountain Valley, except sports.
It’s strange to look at the yearbook and realize that I’m invisible – no photo, no mention. Is it all a fever dream? I’ll ask Jean on Aug. 20, and I’ll finally have what I yearned for in 1958: a sort-of date with Jean Knight. And I have a question for her.
How did we get so goddamn old?
