Hey, Maaaaaaaan!

Ah, the flight of youth. Back in my musician days, any time I passed someone under 30 it was "Hey, Maaaan." Luckily, that lasted quite a while for me, as I have the fortunate genetics to look 3 or 4 days younger than I really am. Then one day it happened. I held the door at Wendy's open for a younger chap, and he said "Thanks, Sir." Yuck. I had become a Sir, and by my recollection Queen Elizabeth II had never touched a sword to either of my shoulders, so it wasn't that I had been Knighted by the Crown or anything. I surmised it must have been because I no longer looked like a Maaaaaaan. I looked like a Sir. Attempting to keep a stiff upper lip, I decided to look at the glass as half-full and thought OK, at least I'm showing some maturity now (most people reach their opening level of maturity around age 16, mine was sometime in my mid-40's). At least I was being recognized.

Earlier today I looked at the clock, and just looked back again now, realizing that time continues to march forward. Sir. Yeesh. Slowly it moves, yes, but it silently continues pushing me ahead. And ahead. And further ahead, until that day is finally reached, the day everyone dreads most. The day when your life flashes before your eyes, and you think of all the things you wished you had done, but never found the time. You think of the puppy you got when you were barely old enough to open the Christmas box by yourself. You recall all the best and worst moments of your life, completely but in an instant. And then, regardless of how you wished it could have been different, there you are facing Fate itself. You had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but we're all human and everything has a beginning, middle and end (except for media coverage of Paris Hilton, which obviously has no end). On that sad day, your friends will gather, to reminisce and talk about the days of your youth, their favorite stories about you, the times when even without knowing it you had touched their lives, and there will be hugs and tears all around.

What??? You think I'm talking about dying? Good gravy, no! Heck, dying is easy. You just keel over, and wait for the truck to come and cart you off. No, I'm talking about a much more difficult day than that. The day when Sir is no longer your greatest fear. It's the day you're walking out of Wendy's and a younger chap passes you by with youthful swagger, and eye contact reveals that he's about to acknowledge you. Probably not as Maaaaaan. Much more likely to be a Hello Sir. But the world will never be the same again. As he passes by, he tips his cap, and says "What's up, Pops?"

Cap'n Bob will be on Shore Leave for the next better-part-of-a-week. If you really need me, please come to the Mirage Poker Room in Las Vegas and ask for The Cap'n. And bring your money. I'll talk to you, but you'd better be prepared to sit in for a while first. I need the cash.