Age Ain't Nothin' But a Number
“Hi?” “Hello.” “I’m….” “And I’m….” “Are you here to pick someone up?” “No, I’m not.” “Are you sure you’re in the right place?” “Positive.”
It’s incredulous, the number of times I have been out somewhere, and in a distant conversation within earshot from me, I overheard someone, who themselves are just fractions over the New York State legal drinking age, state; “age ain't nothin' but a number.” It simply floors me that someone would apply that to themselves, when their age denotes, numerically, what they are legally restricted from doing. Thankfully, bravado is not gender specific. It does, however, boasts of a sense of fearlessness and confidence, until it's put to the test. Then we find out that age is more than just a number, and it really means something. On the other hand, someone usually young, boast that their age, 40 and much younger, means nothing because it's not synonymous with their ability. On the other end of that spectrum there is us. If you have read previous blog pages, and if you haven't please do, 60 plus years of living is a very big number (Life Clock 1,974,263) and numbers have an importance. Conversely, we quietly represent a true fact, that "age ain't nothin' but a number". Today sixty or more years old represents much more than the number of times we have walked, run, rode a bike, driven or rode in a car, in a plane, a train, and any other method of transportation. Sixty years tells of what we've eaten, the places we have lived, and the people who we have lived with or amongst. More, it includes the books, articles, advertisements, and graffiti that you have read on the back of buses, billboards, and the countless amount of television you have watched, including news shows. Over the course of 60 plus years of living, the things we have witnessed with our very own eyes, would exhaust the average computer hard drive. Let us not even consider the pain of loss, forgiveness, and regret. The bliss and euphoria of happiness, and joy. The number of jobs we have worked and the all people we have liked and disliked; disagreements, arguments, and possibly physical fights we have lost, and won. Birth. Life. Death. Renewal. I could go on infinitum. Age may be nothin' but a number; but at a certain point in our lives the number and the life lived merge into one.
WE, we, now can do literally anything we want. Life has for many of us become virtually "Charlie in a Chocolate Factory". Of course within moderation. If you haven't realize it, then let me be the first to tell you. Crossing this threshold of 60 years of living is more than just a mere milestone. Think of it this way. What is really off-limits at this point in our lives? I am not advocating anything remotely associated with criminal behavior, and as a disclaimer; malicious and or criminal behavior is unacceptable at any age. However, it's hard to deny the truth. What do we have to loose? Thankfully, for most of us our moral compass and the fact that we fully understand the consequences of our actions, is the very reason why we have been able avoid these tempestuous trappings of freedom. The world may not be our playground, but as many of us are homeowners, our backyards provide us with enough privacy to enjoy our own piece of happiness and freedom. This sense of contentment is expressed through charity, endowment, and benevolence. Giving is a clear sign that "age ain't nothing but a number". Too often when you're young it's hard to understand sacrifice and it's importance. Especially as it improves the lives other people.
On occasion when I am talking to someone or a group of people younger than myself, generally about sports, the conversations will often veer into matters of life; invariably there comes a pivotal shift in the conversation, when it imperceptibly changes and becomes more about what I know, and what they don’t. I can't often determine if this is intentional, and I have painfully learned over the years, that I am not everyone’s father. That understanding persuades me in these conversations to accept that I don't have all the answers. Recognizing this, I have made it a point to police myself when I feel as though I am crossing the line and giving advice. Especially if it is not requested. People want to know, they just don't want to be told. But these interactions occur all too frequently. They often leave me wondering, is our age seen as if we know something, and are openly willing to share it? Can I, can you, help it, if we have lived a long dam time? Gary hair may symbolize age, but it should not be considered as knowledge. In these brief communications, the seismic divide in the age gap is unveiled; which then leads ultimately to less of a conversation and more of a history lesson. Worse, an acknowledgement of the cultural divide. Remember, it started as a conversation about sports? Most sincerely are unaware, but age, my age, our age, is the number and the reason why it's not longer a conversation about sports. It can make interactions very awkward. Again it's not my intention. Conversely, when "age ain't nothing but a number", I or you, meet and talk with someone who is our counterpart. The discussion or conversation never veers into more than what it began as. Situations such as this can be reassuring mentally as your knowledge and the life you have lived is appreciated, and often equalized. Equal terms makes it easy for equal understanding.
I love football. Here it comes, the proverbial sports reference...
In the late 70’s I was a big Washington R*******S Commanders fan, albeit I lived in New York. None the less, at the time they were one of, if not, the oldest team in the NFL and affectionately known as, “The over the Hill Gang.” There is something magical about watching older players go up against younger players and or older teams vs younger teams. I openly admit that I root for the Old Guys, the underdogs. They, The R********S were coached by George Allen, a Ronald Reagan look-a-like, black hair with the straightest part in his hairline that I have ever seen, and of course graying temples. Their quarterback at the time, was a guy who physically resembled Norm from Cheers. He had a pot belly that stretched his jersey at the stomach, and he wore a single bar helmet. His name was Sonny Jorgensen. Although he was far from resembling today’s physically svelte NFL player, make no mistake about, Sonny was a dam good quarterback. What he may have lacked in physique he amply made up for it in heart. His replacement or back-up was no different. He too wore high-top shoes and one bar helmet, his name was Billy Kilmer. But my favorite player was a running back who embodied what football, in those days was, blood and guts. He wore number 43 and his name was Larry Brown. No fancy moves, not shifty, he didn’t possess great speed and he couldn’t have weighed more than 190 pounds wet. But when pitted against younger foe he was effort and perseverance was relentless. It’s unfortunate, but even with all that experience and wisdom they lost a very close game in Superbowl VII, in 1973, to the younger Miami Dolphins.
As a matter of record, the Miami Dolphins had the first and last perfect season in NFL history. I remember the final score of that game, 14-7. I marveled that Washington was almost able pull out the victory if it were not for an end zone interception thrown by Billy Kilmer. I mention all this because age was a major factor in the Miami victory, and youth was served. However in another historical moment in sports. I also remember vividly watching Chris Evert vs Billie Jean King, where age, or the difference in age, played a significant role in Chris Evert's win; you needn’t inquiry who I was rooting for. On the other hand, sometimes the older age does prevails. Which leads me to is his royal highness of dignity and class personified. The late great Arthur Ashe. In the 1975 Wimbledon Finals he defeated a much younger Jimmy Connors in four sets to become The Wimbledon Champion. Connors who was ten years younger than Ashe, was a southpaw with a rocket for a serve and all the energy of a Road Runner. I can still see it clearly the images in my mind, as if it were happening today. I see Jimmy Connors pounding this tennis ball as it were a piece of granite and his racket was a sledgehammer. Then there was Arthur Ashe, slim and refined, looking as he just stepped out from a GQ shoot; returning every Connors guided missile. Age vs youth was defiantly on display that day. We had (my family), by now a color tv, and Arthur Ashe looked regal, perfectly quaffed, not a hair out of place in the Afro. The outcome of day resonated with me for years to come, in more ways than one. But as a teenager I watched, and rooted for Age. On that day age prevailed 6-1, 6-1, 5-7, 6-4 in four sets. That situation defines why "age ain't nothin' but a number" because lessons learned from time, can be applied when you need them the most.
Apologies for the number of sports references. But sports is the perfect backdrop for this conundrum. In that same year I watched my hero, who I knew was well over-the-hill. But after all, he was The Greatest. And if anyone said they could accomplish something, you would believe that he would be one who could do it. Muhammad Ali proved all the naysayers and doubters wrong in Zaïre, Africa in 1975 by defeating Big George Foreman. It is known as "The Rumble in The Jungle". As I riminess, the question that comes to mind is; why did I root for the older player in stead of someone closer to my age? The answer is simple, reverence. I knew that age was just number, but I also felt that it was also more than just a number. My heroes were all older than me, and I felt like that was the way it was meant to be. That if I wanted to, one day, sit upon that mantle, I was going to have to wait my turn; although I was eager and younger, I recognized then this might not be a fight that I could win. Patience would have to prevail. I know that many would think the subject line, “age ain't nothin' but a number”, would connote something more, intimate? I would agree, and it would be fitting if not untrue. The unanswered question is, what age? We are now 60 years old, and age is no longer The Berlin Wall; we have no barriers beyond the ones we create for ourselves. We do have however, have a code of conduct and a discipline that has proven itself to me a very good guide to point our lives.
After 60 year of life we can now see our lives expressed in photographs with our families, our travels, and our accomplishments through the years. But if we really look closely at ourselves, have we really changed? Did I, we get older or better? Age is no longer a formidable foe; age is not believing that there is a stop sign configured to inhibit growth and continued development. Age isn’t, put me in a chair in the backyard with a glass of lemonade. Age is boundless, and we have a bounce. We now have a style, a walk, (hoodies and coffee mugs) shameless plug, a sway, and an announcement and pronouncement that we have arrived. There isn’t anything left to prove. Yes, when appropriate, in limited situations “age ain't nothin' but a number”. But that’s a very small reference, not designed or situated for everyone. We can’t get younger from being with someone, younger. There also are no creams, or special elixirs, or diets, and or gym equipment that will reverse time. This number isn’t just a number, it’s a light. A beacon. We shine. The DOB on the driver’s license maybe the actual date. But what it doesn’t say is what we can’t do. I can do any dam thing I want to do.
We all can, because; “Age ain't nothin' but a number”.