By Scott Shephard
I think it’s interesting that men of a certain vintage can get away with having gray facial hair. If you ask me, it makes them look much older than they are. But people say that it gives them “character.” If you are Sean Connery, you might even qualify to be named (at age 59) the “sexiest man alive” by People Magazine. All it takes is a little gray in your beard. Being a handsome movie star doesn’t hurt either. All that adds up to why People didn’t pick me at that age.
That aside, if you think I look older than I am, blame the beard. I’m only 70, which in my mind is not the least bit “old.”
Nevertheless, the title of this blog post comes from the song “Old Friends” by Simon and Garfunkel. It appeared on their brilliant album “Bookends,” released in 1969. I was 15 years old when I first heard this song. The song haunted me then. It still does:
Old friends, old friends
Sat on their park bench like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes of the old friendsOld friends, winter companions, the old men
Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friendsCan you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be 70 . . . .
In 1969 I may have imaged that it truly would be strange to be 70. Life would have pitfalls, limits and uncertainties. Truly, the end would be near.
But reaching my 7th decade has revealed something different. Yes, I have more wrinkles and I have physical limits I didn’t used to. For example, when I sit down on the floor I feel like a lumbering camel when I try to get back on my feet. But at age 70 I do have more hair than Connery had at age 60. That’s something.
But “Sexiest Man Alive”? Not me. Never.
But the happiest man alive? How do you even begin to measure that? If happiness comes from contententedness, I will say that I am more content than I think I have ever been. I am certainly comfortable in my own skin, something I couldn’t have said when I was younger.
Most importantly, I rarely question my reason for being these days because I think that just “being” is more than enough. As a teacher I had a career where I was bent on pleasing all whom I came in contact with - and there were thousands of them - most young, some older.
It is still important to try to please people, but these days the circle of those whom I need to please the most is much smaller. I wouldn’t trade my past for anything. But I certainly like my present. And I can’t wait for tomorrow.
Today? Deb and I are in Chicago to celebrate life. We will do many things over the next two days but by intent our hotel is only blocks away from one of my favorite places anywhere - The Art Institute of Chicago. There we will visit Rembrandt, Seurat, Van Gogh, Hopper, Wood, Picasso and many others.
They are all old friends of mine. I flatter myself by thinking that they can’t wait to see me. It’s been a while . . . .
Canon R5 f/5.6 1/18 sec ISO 3200