The late George Burns on the subject of age: “They say the legs are the first thing to go.” Burns, who had impeccable comic timing, would pause for a second or two, and say: “The second.” Yes, age has a destructive impact on the male anatomy. HG will be 86 this November. HG has switched from saying “I’m getting old” to “I’ve arrived. I’m old.” Old age arrives with a tidy group of ailments. Unexpected arthritis pains. Faulty hearing. Rickety legs (HG walks with a cane). Lessening of upper body strength. Enlarged prostate necessitating frequent nocturnal trips to the bathroom. And, in HG’s case, an impaired respiratory system (the result of 50 years of incessant cigarette and cigar smoking). Okay. Those are some of the bad things about getting old. How about the good things? Here, HG cannot generalize but only report personal history. Pre-dinner drinks, wine with dinner, brandy post dinner. Age hasn’t diminished the pleasure of these daily rituals. (Novelist James Gould Cozzens described whiskey as “The old man’s friend.” In HG’s case it’s vodka). HG remains obsessively joyous about dining pleasures, at home or in restaurants. The pleasures of family and friends remain constant (as well as the ever growing love for wife BSK). HG’s family reports that HG remains politically incorrect and tasteless with an emphasis upon off color humor (not that they don’t still love the old fart). HG still enjoys writing (something HG has done professionally for decade upon decade). Quiet pleasures have gained intensity: Walking by the sea and swimming on Prince Edward Island. Gazing at cliffs and mesas in New Mexico while breathing tangy high desert air. Sitting by the fireplace on winter nights. Reading. Listening to music (Bill Evans, Django, Miles, Fats Waller, Mozart, Bach, Yo Yo Ma, Blossom Dearie remain favorites). Toby, The Wonder Dog, is a perpetually charming and amusing companion. These days HG is bemused, rather than made furious, by the state of the nation. Unabated racism (especially directed toward President Obama). Perpetual gun slaughter with attempts to lessen it blocked by the NRA. The useless, idiotic “War on drugs” which imprisons thousands of young African-American men while never acknowledging that addiction is a medical, not a criminal, problem. Despite progress, the ongoing denial of female equality and the continual media projection of women as a catalog of inflated pieces of fantasy anatomy. The dreary clownishness of Donald Trump and the descent of the Republican Party to know nothing stupidity rather than intelligent conservatism. Frightening income disparity, the rise of the oligarchs and the money corruption of the election process. On the world front there’s the futile response to global warming and environmental destruction. Islam, responsible for some of our greatest civilizations and most significant intellectual achievements, spawning splinter terror movements. Israel, once such a beacon of hope, now held captive by right wing politics. Russia reverting back to traditional autocracy. And, yes, there’s plenty of other dire news. HG can only conclude that the United States is still a work in progress (much work still to do). The world? It is inhabited by a very flawed species known as the human race, a species like few others, that seems to delight in the slaughter of its own kind. At this stage of life, HG tries to live in the present, enjoying the delights offered by each individual day. The French philosopher said: “When we think of the past, we regret. When we think of the future, we fear.” Wise words. As to the present, the sun is shining on Prince Edward Island. There’s a nice breeze. HG and Toby are off for some outdoor fun.
My favorite album of all times is ‘Bill Evans Alone’. Shame that drugs did him in.
My favorite is the Village Vanguard Sessions.