In just a few weeks I'll be 61. Lord ... 61! I'll ask the same question millions have asked — where the hell did the time go?
It's true, you know, that time telescopes as we grow older. I think that proves Einstein was right ... or perhaps just that he was old and grey ... how would I know, I'm into words, not science. I mean, I clearly remember being a kid in kindy and going to primary school in East Victoria Park in the 1950s (stop sniggering down the back). But that seems a respectable time ago.
What does seem obscene, however, is that I remember working in the Goldfields as an adult some, oh, 10 or so years ago ... but when I work it out, it's over 30 years ago. Thirty years! I jumped on Google maps last night and "drove" down Boulder Road to the District Education Office (the old EGSHS) where I used to run the Resource Centre. There was where I parked my car; the steps I climbed every day; the windows in the workroom; the doors to the office; the Camp School ... frozen in an instant of time. Not my time, certainly, but frozen nevertheless. Just like my life seems to have frozen from then.
I've got married since then; bought two houses; had a step-daughter and another daughter AND now two grandkids. I've quit teaching; become a senior public servant; quit and run my own business; run a music company; gone back to educational publishing. Dearly Beloved and I have travelled the world ... some places several times. Discovered motorcycling; I've gone white and then bald; gained weight and three or four "chins" I never had; slowed down. Had a triple bypass; get daily arthritis aches and pains ... and, damnit, that time has passed in a flash and I still felt 30 — until the other day.
I went down to the local mall for a haircut. These days, they only charge me $5 for a haircut and beard trim ... and $25 search fee. Anyway, the young lass cutting my hair was chatting about the weather. She asked me how I liked the heat. (We've been having a continuing heatwave here in Perth.) Not for me, I explained, I actually prefer colder weather ... bit of rain, bit of snow ... I'm in heaven.
Her response stopped me in my tracks. Without missing a beat on the scissors, she said, "You crazy bitch".
"WTF?" I said to myself. "Did she really just say that to a customer?"
"You really like cold?" she asked, before I could think further.
"Yes", I said, and opened my mouth to explain, only to get, "You crazy bitch" again.
I looked at her face in the mirror ... and suddenly realised she was totally unaware of how I might perceive what she had said. To her, it was just another saying, one that the people she worked and lived with used. There was no malice, no sense of impropriety (because none was intended) and no realisation of the effect it might have on we "oldies".
And I suddenly felt a bit older as she brushed the hair off my collar and took my money. Not because I was offended — I wasn't — but because I realised with a jolt how far removed I'd become from anything that is "young" and "new".
So I came home and had a glass of white wine and sat on the computer ... not really looking at anything ... just fiddling while I thought about the incident.
I thought perhaps I should look up a porn site, or a YouTube thrash video, and to hell with being "old".
But in the end I logged into the Ulysses Club and joined a conversation about ... "spirited" ... motorcycle riding.
And I didn't feel so old for a couple of hours.
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