I was talking to my mother recently, and she made the offhand comment that you’re only as old as you feel. To which I responded, “Then I think I’m pushing 60.” So that’s hyperbole, obviously, but I’m certainly feeling every one of my (admittedly few) 31 years. It’s not that I have blown-out joints or that I can’t hear anything anymore or that I take my meals with a Geritol and tonic chaser. It’s not that at all. I’m 31. I recognize that it’s entirely possible I’m only a third of the way through my life. Relatively speaking, I’m young, unless you ask my students, in which case, I’m positively precambrian.
It’s not that. It’s more that, as my friend Jason and I commiserated recently, I sort of thought that at 31 I’d still feel in my prime. When you’re 20 or 25, you get really tired of everyone calling you young and saying things like, “Oh, you’re just a baby!” as if you were a teenager still. It’s, like, really annoying, and people need to, like, totally recognize that, man. So you look forward to your 30’s, when you’ll have the respectability of having attained a decent age (I mean, you can truthfully say by that point that you outlived Kurt Cobain AND Sylvia Plath—go you!) while still fantasizing that you’ll be young and attractive looking and in good enough shape to fool people into thinking you still give a rip about what you stuff into your face.
But, as Jason and I discussed the other day, the truth is more like Sinbad put it. When you’re 20, 25, you run like a maniac. When you get to your thirties, you start puttering about with your fingers on your carotid artery, looking for signs of an oncoming heart attack. “Oh, that’s WAY too fast! I better slow DOWN!” And you realize that the blurred shape that just lapped you on the track and left you in the dust was, in fact, your prime.
My kids have endless energy, and I have…endful energy. God bless any parents who have babies later in life. I just don’t know how they do it, physically. I’m relatively young, and I’m exhausted all day long. But rather than just whine and complain about it, I decided to pit myself against other things that were ushered into this world in 1981. Let’s see how I’m holding up versus some other legendary 1981 births.
Round 1: Me vs. Rush’s Moving Pictures
Unquestionably the apex of Rush’s career, though it was part of a Rush Renaissance that lasted basically from the late ’70’s through the mid-’80’s. Features stone-cold classics like “Tom Sawyer,” “Red Barchetta,” “YYZ,” and “Limelight.” Some of the best basswork imaginable. Very clever album art that features the rare triple entendre (they’re moving pictures, they’re making a moving picture of the scene, and the people seeing the pictures are moved to tears by them). The b-side doesn’t quite live up to the a-side, and of course, Geddy Lee sounds like an old woman. But it still sounds fresh and absolutely essential 31 years on, though perhaps a bit wanky, as does all prog rock. Rush are a bunch of bacon-eating atheistic Canucks.
The ’80’s were a bit of an awkward time for me, part of an awkward phase that lasted approximately from 1981 until the time you read this. I have written several songs, none of which have been published, few of which I can even remember, and even fewer of which are probably any good. I play bass (a Geddy Lee Fender, in fact), though I’m not even in the same universe as Geddy, skills-wise. People would probably rather look at this album cover than my mug. My b-side and a-side are equally uninspiring. But I don’t sing like an old woman—merely like a male with a tolerable voice. I tend to sound a little wanky, too, because I’m a prog-rock nerd, though I am a God-fearin’ American!
Advantage: Rush
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Round 2: Me vs. Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
Classic Spielberg! John Williams score, Harrison Ford, Nazis, mythology, daring adventure, a sizzling romance, tarantulas, blowdarts, melting and exploding faces, snakes (“I hate snakes!”) and one gigantic stone. The story is a little absurd, but you just roll with it (pun intended, thankyouverymuch) because Harrison Ford is awesome and the movie is just so stinkin’ much fun! It’s full of classic quotes and puns. The effects are way ahead of their time, though the melting face does feel a little aged, because it’s clearly just a sped-up scene of a melting wax face. His glasses fall off way too quickly, so it ruins the effect. It’s at least mildly blasphemous. It has three inferior though still fun sequels and a whole slew of spin-off games, TV shows, and more, including the old Young Indiana Jones show.
I make a freaking good Indiana Jones, as you can see. I, too, have written stories in which I try to reconcile religions, science, action, and adventure. I don’t know if they’re as good as Spielberg, but this much I can assure you: they feature distinctly fewer young kids who know what’s going on while the adults all walk around without a single clue. I’m full of classic quotes and puns, too! I’ve never melted any Nazis, but I’ve given some grammar lessons that have melted faces! I’m not blasphemous, and I’ve produced two sequels that are much superior to their parent.
Advantage: Tie.
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Round 3: Me vs. The Smurfs (sort of ironic the way the colors worked out, no?)
The Smurfs debuted on NBC in 1981, and since then it has become a somewhat iconic show and has generated a very, very horrible looking 2011 movie with the deeply appalling tagline “Get SUBAR (Smurfed Up Beyond All Recognition).” The show features a demented ghoul of a man who is hellbent on finding the Smurfs’ secret mushroom village and, basically, feeding them to his cat for reasons that generally seemed to go unstated. Each Smurf had a name that was loosely styled on the suspiciously similar Seven Dwarfs (you know, like Papa Smurf and Wonky Smurf and Slappy Smurf and Cokehead Smurf and things like that). I never had much interest in this show, and its theme song was just “La la la la la la, la la la la laaaaaaa…”
I have not generated any horrible full-length movies, though I have generated a couple pretty knee-slappin’ short home movies. My tagline (“The choice of a new generation”), though brazenly stolen by some two-bit soft drink company, is much more appealing. In my life, I’m the demented ghoul of a man, and I chase two little midgets around an apartment the size of a mushroom village, while they try to chase our cat. See how that’s a much more accessible and intriguing plotline, complete with motivation and levels of meaning that reveal themselves over time? My children’s names are pleasant and not reminiscent of creepy dwarfs (though they do remind one of a literate spider and the guy responsible for the fall of mankind…hmmm…). My theme song, while unutterable in the tongues of men, is blissful.
Advantage: Me
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Round 4: Me vs. Ronald Reagan
Ronald Reagan, though elected in 1980, took office in January, 1981. He is commonly regarded as a top-quartile president, and his star has certainly risen in recent years as more and more Republicans bring up his specter by comparing themselves to him and more and more Democrats wish Republicans would be more like the Gipper. He is known for supply-side “Reaganomics,” support for the so-called “Star Wars” defense system, helping to end the Cold War, and the extremely questionable Iran-Contra Affair. He dared Germans to tear down the Berlin Wall and helped usher in détente. He was among our best speechmaking presidents, survived a nearly deadly assassination attempt, and fought Alzheimer’s with admirable stoicism. Though he was branded by foes as an unintellectual actor-president and is still sometimes derided by those who claim his policies aided the rich at the expense of the poor, Reagan is still highly regarded by most Americans today. His library in Simi Valley is extremely popular.
Though conceived in 1980, I became sentient in April, 1981. So I’m a Reagan baby. I recently received two awards as a teacher, though the Teacher-of-the-Year award was given by a teacher friend whose kid I had just had in English. So there’s that. I am known for being seen running all over Camarillo with a twin stroller; admiration for the Star Wars triology (though not those crappy prequels); helping to end the cold war between two seventh-grade girls who, like, so totally weren’t going to talk to each other anymore; and extremely questionable cooking skills. I once built a huge wall out of cardboard bricks and then knocked it down. I have made speeches every day for seven years as a teacher, and though I haven’t braved an assassination attempt, I did once have some kid shoot an Air-Soft gun into my classroom. It almost hit me. We called the cops. I’ve fought an achy back for a month now with admirable moderation of abject whining. My economic policies mostly deal with trying to get myself out of debt and tithing at church. I’ve been to the Reagan Library many times!
Advantage: Dutch (don’t make a red comment, don’t make a red comment…).
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Round 5: Me vs. IBM personal computer (model 5150)
The first IBM PC, the 5150, featured such mind-boggling features as 256 kB of memory, a floppy disk drive or cassette tape, a tough keyboard, a whopping two colors, and a highly expandable platform that keeps them running to this day for most National Weather Service stations, though it’s probably fair to say most of these boxes are no longer running and are merely collectables. Which is more than we can say for the company itself, which is considered to be more or less a dinosaur.
I probably have a little more than 256 kB of memory (if only a little more), plus it is stored on a system (the human brain) that most people would probably agree is a much greater creation than some disk drive. I have far more than just two colors (actually just varying shades of white), and a slightly expandable waistline that has gone from 32 to 36 inches and back a few times. I also have a much less boxy construction. And unlike the vast majority of IBM computers (or the company itself, practically), I am still running to this day!
Advantage: Me!
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FINAL ROUND: Me vs. 1981 Honda Accord
Well, let’s get one thing straight right off the bat. This is one ugly car. You ever look through an old magazine or something and find an ad for a car from the ’80’s? They never look new, ever. They’re like Walter Matthau—no matter how young or new they were, they still look old and decrepit. Okay, so all that aside, the Accord sold like gangbusters. It became the best-selling Japanese car in the U.S., and I’m pretty sure Congress just officially awarded it the “Best-Selling Car for All Eternity, What Is This, Payback for Hiroshima?” Award. There are still a lot of these things out on the road, for crying out loud. I mean, there’s a 1990 Honda Accord with a MILLION miles on it! I know I slip in hokey jokey links for fun, but seriously, click this! A MILLION MILES?! No one can even count that high! I always thought a million was just a made-up number like a google, or the square root of -1, or 37. But then, I almost failed at the algebras. But no, this car has a million miles and counting! That’s 40 trips around the Earth, if my math skills don’t fail me. Or one drive around town trying to find a parking space in Malibu.
Well, I’m no Adonis, but I’m going to go ahead and say I’m better looking than the 1981 Honda Accord, and I’d say I’ve aged better, too. But of course, even on my best day, I can only boast 13.1 miles, which puts me probably at least a couple hundred miles short of a million, lifetime. But then, after all these years, I’m still running, too. And, once again, I’m made in the U.S.A.
Advantage: Tie.
Well, I didn’t come out too badly, did I? I tied with the Honda Accord and Indiana Jones, and I beat the tiny, white pants off the stupid Smurfs and I knocked the hard, plastic casing off that old IBM! Of course, I lost out to Reagan, but not as badly as Carter or poor Mondale. And I never expected to outdo the Holy Triumvirate.
Go me!
Today’s inspirational verse: Ecclesiastes 12: 1-3:
“Don’t let the excitement of youth cause you to forget your Creator. Honor him in your youth before you grow old and say, ‘Life is not pleasant anymore.’ Remember him before the light of the sun, moon, and stars is dim to your old eyes, and rain clouds continually darken your sky. Remember him before your legs—the guards of your house—start to tremble; and before your shoulders—the strong men—stoop. Remember him before your teeth—your few remaining servants—stop grinding; and before your eyes—the women looking through the windows—see dimly.”
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