Nobody envies the woebegone 80-year-old. His pace has slowed, his choices narrowed and his days are numbered. “Poor devils,” sniff the cocky middle-agers, “it must be tough when you always have to use the short-term parking.”
It’s true the blind dates are less exciting. You know for a fact Gina Lollobrigida isn’t showing up and if she does it’s with her banker. You know the doctor visits will be scary. “George, you won’t believe it but that consarn (choose one or more; brain cancer, gout, hemhorroid, melanoma, diverticulitis, etc.) has risen up again!” And alas, you finally realize you’ll never drive through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in your hair. Oh, you can still make Paris, it’s the hair that’s the problem.
Still, there are unforeseen benefits for the octogenarian. For one thing, it’s almost impossible to get arrested. A geezer has to be flapping his johnson at lady truckers on the interstate or crossing state lines with a 14-year-old Lolita to get any notice from the police. Being over 80 is like having a permanent note from your mother. “We can’t arrest this guy, Eddie, he’s 82 years old! And he promised to take the Kawasaki back to the shop. What if it was YOUR granddad?”
Then, too, there are 80-year-old turtles and there are octogenarian jackrabbits. While most oldsters sit in the dugout waiting for the ninth inning, a few still haul the bat to the plate. “I went out on a date with that nice George Ehrbiter,” testified Maizie the Prim, “and he asked me if I’d be interested in grousing in the goodie. I thought he was talking about birdwatching until he snapped my bra off!”
The trouble with being in our eighties is that some of us in the pilot seat of the robot still see ourselves as wayward lads out for a good time. We are slow to accept the new reality and are forced to make concessions only at gunpoint. There will come a time, of course, when the rust builds up and the engine wears down and the Cosmic Arbiter warms up the Ultimate Chariot for the last roundup. Until then, though, we’ll wink at the ladies, rassle with the gents and marvel at the magnificence of the universe. Maybe get picked up by one of those hot mamas from The Villages on Sadie Hawkins Night. “Did you hear, Conrad, there’s a lot of VD goin’ on down there? Be nice to have to worry about THAT again, hee hee.”
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Unlikely Heroes
Our old pal Willie Nelson turned 89 a couple months back, but he doesn’t look a day over 86. Still, if Zippy the Pinhead asked him if he was having fun yet, Willie would answer “Every day.” Nelson was born back in 1933 and largely raised by his grandparents who both studied music through the mail with courses from the Chicago Music Institute. Willie took an interest and learned a few songs, the first one Amazing Grace; he wrote his own first song at age 7. At 13, Willie Nelson was talented enough to play with the legendary Bob Wills, the inventor of Texas Swing. In those days, musicians were rarely well-off, there were no illusions about making a career of it. Most pickers and singers were in it for love of the game.
Willie joined the Air Force and later worked as a cotton picker, saddle maker and disc jockey, then sold bibles, vacuum cleaners and encyclopedias. Is there anyone left who remembers encyclopedias? In 1960, Willie was signed by Pamper Music as a songwriter for $50 a week. In 1962, he had his first album, And Then I Wrote, which included Crazy, Hello Walls and Funny How Time Slips Away, songs which stood the test of time and boosted the careers of Patsy Cline, Faron Young and Billy Walker. One night, Nelson and Hank Cochran wrote seven songs together in the basement of Nelson’s Tennessee home, among them an ominous number called What Can You Do To Me Now? Next day Nelson’s house burned down.
After the fire, Willie moved to Austin. His first Fourth of July picnic was in Dripping Springs, Texas in 1973 . His 1978 album of pop standards, Stardust, remained on the country music charts for 540 weeks. That’s ten years, folks. Advancing to Hollywood, Nelson made his acting debut in The Electric Horseman in 1979 with Robert Redford and Jane Fonda and followed up in 1980 with the starring role in Honeysuckle Rose. Willie wrote one of his most famous songs, On The Road Again on a plane with director Sydney Pollack.
In 1980, Nelson played a concert at the White House for President Jimmy Carter and performed a duet with First Lady Rosalyn; their number was Up Against The Wall, Redneck Mother. Friend of presidents or not, the Internal Revenue Service corralled Nelson for millions in tax non-payments in the 1990s and for a while it looked like the hoosegow was a possibility. Willie eventually paid off the debt by releasing a double-album called The IRS Tapes: Who’ll Buy My Memories. Don’t try this at home unless you’re Dolly Parton.
Willie Nelson is in a lot of Halls of Fame, including the Country Music HOF and even the National Agricultural Hall of Fame. Willie has done a lot for agriculture by promoting several of its products, the foremost being marijuana. He is famous for his ode to suspect cigarettes, Roll Me Up And Smoke Me When I Die and has long been an outspoken cannabis advocate. Willie first smoked pot in a roadside bar in Fort Worth in 1954 when he was 21 and a big bourbon drinker. A musician friend, Fred Lockwood, handed him a joint and told him to “Get high and be somebody.”
Willie will tell anyone who will listen that marijuana saved his life. At 21, he was a heavy whiskey hound and an unpleasant drunk, but the use of cannabis altered his path. Though for years Nelson’s use of pot was treated as a joke, he always took it seriously. In the 1980s, late night talk hosts like Johnny Carson tended to reduce Willie’s love of the devil’s lettuce to a Cheech and Chong punchline but he always defended cannabis and firmly believed in the plant’s healing powers. A friend once related, “Willie learned over the years that all his friends who drank whiskey aren’t with us any more, but he’s gonna live to be 100.”
Just 11 years to go, Willie. Keep on puffin’.
They’re Strong To The Finish….
Allan Johnson, 80, has been calf-roping since 1946 and is still a member of the National Senior Pro Rodeo Association. Despite multiple broken fingers, broken arms, a twice-broken left leg and two knee replacements, he still rides every day and regularly participates in physically demanding calf-roping events. The cows have twice tried to treat him to a retirement party but Allan says bullshit to that.
Lifelong yoga enthusiast Tao Porchon-Lynch fell and broke her hip at age 87. After hip replacement surgery, her doctor told her she’d have to slow down and act her age. Nope. One month later she began taking ballroom dance lessons, even winning competitions at 93. Tao still taught 12 yoga classes a day just for the hell of it.
At 80, Christine Brown of Laguna Hills flew to China and climbed the Great Wall. At 81, Bill Painter became the oldest person to reach the 14,411-foot summit of Mount Rainier. At 82, William Ivy Baldwin became the oldest tightrope walker, crossing the South Boulder Canyon in Colorado on a 320-foot wire. At 84, Somerset Maugham wrote Points of View. At 85, Theodor Mommsen became the oldest person to win a Nobel Prize in Literature. At 86, Katherine Pelton swam the 200-meter butterfly in 3 minutes, 1.14 seconds, beating the men’s world record for that age group by over 20 seconds. At 87, Mary Baker Eddy founded the Christian Science Monitor. At 88, Michelangelo created the architectural plans for the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli. It’s tough to follow Michelangelo, but at 89 Arthur Rubenstein performed one of his greatest recitals at Carnegie Hall. At 85, Bill Killeen parachuted down to Heartwood Soundstage to initiate his monster birthday concert. Oh-oh. The cat’s out of the bag now.
Hector & Darleen
Both well over 80, Hector McKenzie and his wife, Darleen shared everything. Thus it was commonplace for Hector to order food in restaurants, carefully cut everything in half and give 50% to his wife. Occasionally this ritual can be misconstrued by nearby diners who suspect the elderly couple can only afford one meal. Now and then, someone in the restaurant will get up, come over and politely offer to buy the couple a second dinner. “No need,” Hector will smile, “we’re just fine. This is just the way we do things.”
One evening at a particularly fine dining room, Hector and Darleen were surrounded by people of means, opulent jewelry hanging from every lobe. A self-satisfied group, the fellow diners’ eyes scanned the restaurant for nods of approval, recognition of their presence. Spotting the out-of-place oldsters, one matronly sort advised her husband to go over and help them out. “No thank you,” said Hector McKenzie, smiling, “we are just used to sharing everything.”
The dowager noticed that Darleen hadn’t eaten a bite, while Hector chowed down his half of the meal, finally wiping his face with the napkin. She strode over to the table, put a concerned hand on Darleen’s shoulder and kindly asked, “What are you waiting for, dear?”
Darleen looked up at her, mustered the best smile she could manage and answered, “My turn with the teeth.”
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| Grandma Duke promised her granddaughter she'd get a spiffy pink Mohawk when she turned 90. The girl laughed in disbelief. Grandma Duke doesn't fool around. |
Evangeline
Eighty-five year old Evangeline Jones was not the solitary type. Having outlived three husbands, she soon took a fourth, gaining the interest of a radio station looking for local color. The interviewer wanted to know Evangeline’s secret to finding love four times over. In the process, the newswoman asked what her new husband did for a living.
“He’s a funeral director,” smiled her subject. “Oh, really?” smiled the interviewer. “And can you tell us a little bit about your other husbands….what did each of them do?”
Evangeline paused, reflecting back on her earlier life with a smile. “Well, first there was George, a fine-looking man for a banker. I married him when I was in my twenties. Then, during my wild years, I married Bill, a ringmaster from the circus. I settled down a bit after he passed and wedded Solomon, a preacher, in my 60s. And now there’s my new man, Digger.”
The newswoman looked askance at the incredible variety of husbands. “Good grief!” she marveled. “That’s one heck of a parlay!”
“Well, yes,” admitted Evangeline, “but it was all part of my Master Plan. I wanted one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready and four to go.”
That’s all, folks….
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