17 Has Turned 48
I was having lunch the other day when Cherry Bomb, by Mellencamp, played over the speakers. As usual I concentrated on the line where he croons about 17 turning 35 and I recalled singing that when I was just 25 or so. I changed the words to suit my own age.
17 has turned 25, 26, 27, 28.....48.
And it gets to me, you know?
I've looked back through some things lately seeing myself at the age of 26 and 28. The dark hair. The less weight (although all of my best friends referenced fat back then too), the hope and promise of things to come.
And looking back there are a lot of smiles. Life has a way of stripping away the struggles, right?
Do you remember when you were in high school, or college, or at a job that you particularly despised.
When you look back on it, it all seems like it went great. You recall the smiles and the laughter.
You distance yourself from the pain.
And I suppose that it's good that life plays out that way.
Yet back in 1993 it was hard to escape the Buffalo Bills in this town and I remember talking to a guy around one of the shops where I worked. He didn't watch them at all. He didn't care if they won. He didn't wear a Kelly jersey on casual Friday.
"You're gonna' find out later, kid," he told me. "That none of this shit matters. Life is just sadness and struggle."
I remember him saying it and I can still feel how it felt for me to hear it. I don't recall what his personal demons were and not sure what the 20 years has done to him. He'd be about 68 now.
He was 48 then.
And I still disagree with him.
Life is sad. It certainly can't choke you from time to time as you struggle. In the end there are not years and years of sheer joy.
It's more condensed than that.
Yet the guy in those photos had hair and a slimmer waste line, but he didn't have quite as much knowledge. He hadn't yet experienced all the love that he could. He had an idea about how to get it, but getting it and holding it are two separate things.
And I pray that we all somehow find it someday. At least a glimpse.
The love is out there, folks. It's floating in the air just above the place where you're standing, and 'none of this shit matters, and life is just sadness and struggle', is a tough way to watch the days pile up behind you.
Still, it amazes me to watch the transformation. You see it in the growth of the kids mostly, but its also in the creaking of my body as I climb the stairs.
There's a long ways to go, I hope.
If 17 to 48 is any indication the next 30 years will pass us by quickly.
When I exit stage left there's gonna' be more love than sadness left in my wake.
I guarantee that much.
I'll be singing 17 has turned 78.
17 has turned 25, 26, 27, 28.....48.
And it gets to me, you know?
I've looked back through some things lately seeing myself at the age of 26 and 28. The dark hair. The less weight (although all of my best friends referenced fat back then too), the hope and promise of things to come.
And looking back there are a lot of smiles. Life has a way of stripping away the struggles, right?
Do you remember when you were in high school, or college, or at a job that you particularly despised.
When you look back on it, it all seems like it went great. You recall the smiles and the laughter.
You distance yourself from the pain.
And I suppose that it's good that life plays out that way.
Yet back in 1993 it was hard to escape the Buffalo Bills in this town and I remember talking to a guy around one of the shops where I worked. He didn't watch them at all. He didn't care if they won. He didn't wear a Kelly jersey on casual Friday.
"You're gonna' find out later, kid," he told me. "That none of this shit matters. Life is just sadness and struggle."
I remember him saying it and I can still feel how it felt for me to hear it. I don't recall what his personal demons were and not sure what the 20 years has done to him. He'd be about 68 now.
He was 48 then.
And I still disagree with him.
Life is sad. It certainly can't choke you from time to time as you struggle. In the end there are not years and years of sheer joy.
It's more condensed than that.
Yet the guy in those photos had hair and a slimmer waste line, but he didn't have quite as much knowledge. He hadn't yet experienced all the love that he could. He had an idea about how to get it, but getting it and holding it are two separate things.
And I pray that we all somehow find it someday. At least a glimpse.
The love is out there, folks. It's floating in the air just above the place where you're standing, and 'none of this shit matters, and life is just sadness and struggle', is a tough way to watch the days pile up behind you.
Still, it amazes me to watch the transformation. You see it in the growth of the kids mostly, but its also in the creaking of my body as I climb the stairs.
There's a long ways to go, I hope.
If 17 to 48 is any indication the next 30 years will pass us by quickly.
When I exit stage left there's gonna' be more love than sadness left in my wake.
I guarantee that much.
I'll be singing 17 has turned 78.
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