Signs I'm growing old
I'll rather remove from my playlist a high-pitched song I'm fond of, just because of its stridency, than an ordinary song I don't specially like, just because it's not loud.
Signs I've become a father
Now I find myself in the other side of the lyrics, and find them a little bit unfair. Because, Roger, we're in fact old; and because we're wise, too, we'll let them criticize, but not hanging around too much, won't we? And if teachers tell our sons to stop their play and get on with their work, isn't that right? Making good boys of them, isn't that fine?
I can see you in the morning when you go to school
Don't forget your books, you know you've got to learn the golden rule,
Teacher tells you stop your play and get on with your work
And be like Johnnie. too-good, well don't you know he never shirks
- he's coming along!
After School is over you're playing in the park
Don't be out too late, don't let it get too dark
They tell you not to hang around and learn what life's about
And grow up just like them. Won't you let it work it out
- and you're full of doubt
Don't do this and don't do that
What are they trying to do?- Make a good boy of you
Do they know where it's at?
Don't criticize, they're old and wise
Do as they tell you to
Don't want the devil to
Come out and put your eyes
Maybe I'm mistaken expecting you to fight
Or maybe I'm just crazy, I don't know wrong from right
But while I am still living, I've just got this to say
It's always up to you if you want to be that
want to see that
want to see that way
- you're coming along!
(Supertramp, School)
And then there is the girl leaving home. I had always been fond of her —her determination and courage. Not anymore. Yes, Paul manages to depict their parents as nasty, shallow, and materialist, but he disdains they had never a thought for themselves, sacrificed most of their lives. And she... far away, meeting a man from a motor trade, isn't that really scary?
Wednesday morning at five o'clock as the day begins
Silently closing her bedroom door
Leaving the note that she hope would say more
She goes downstairs to the kitchen clutching her handkerchief
Quietly turning the backdoor key
Stepping outside she is free
She (We gave her most of our lives)
Is leaving (Sacrificed most of our lives)
Home (We gave her everything money could buy)
She's leaving home after living alone for so many years. Bye, bye
Father snores as his wife gets into the dressing gown
Picks up the letter that's lying there
Standing alone at the top of the stairs
She breaks down and cries to her husband
Daddy, our baby's gone
Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly
How could she do this to me
She (We never thought of ourselves)
is leaving (Never a thought for ourselves)
home (We gave her everything money could buy)
She's leaving home after living alone for so many years. Bye, bye
Friday morning at nine o'clock she is far away
Waiting to keep the appointment she made
Meeting a man from a motor trade
She (What did we do that was wrong)
Is having (We didn't know it was wrong)
Fun (Fun is the one thing that money can't buy)
Something inside that was always denied for so many years
She's leaving home, bye, bye.
(The Beatles, She's leaving home)
I wonder, who will write the songs for us lonely, neglected, despised parents?
3 comments:
LOL.
But one is permanently aware of the rapid flow of time. On Dec 20 2004 I had a tiny reflection about this when I convinced myself of:
"How easy life is, in retrospect, when you're a student. If you're a responsible guy the only thing to worry about is, quite generically, to study and get good marks (learning comes second); any additional struggle is not different to those inherent to what being an adolescent brings along; which, after a certain age, seems to be nothing to make a big fuss about. The older you grow the more involved your life becomes. It is true that it usually turns richer, more rewarding and eventful - family, house, independence, all sought after, finally shaped and built. But it is not less true that the abundant commitments and responsibilities are an extra bonus which may turn the experience painfully hard to handle at times.
"This thought strikes me as I listen to two youngsters seated beside me on the tram, while I notice their plain lack of typical adult-life preoccupations. The kids are unconcerned, their dialog runs simple and trivial (language poorly used and much too crowded with trendy local jargon). They talk about some computer game they seem to be very fond of playing. However genuine their simplicity seems I do not envy their life, or life at that age for that matter. I know I have now all sorts of concerns but I also know most of them were freely chosen once; they are the result of some meditated choice, and as such worth the effort."
Ant then, the bare fact, elusive to notice at first, that thoughts replete the mind at any given time, and make you wonder, among other things, about the lyrics of some song (something you've been recurrently wondering about - the same lyrics, the same song), must have been itself a thought I reflected upon on March 18, 2005, when I summoned these words:
"Abruptly Alberto says at lunch how difficult it is not to be always thinking of something. He's realised of a fact that will be tenaciously present every single second of his conscious life. Easily the most oppressive burden one has to cope with. The appeal which made me approach, if only infinitesimally, zen and meditation was the promise to empty the mind of the continuous flow of thoughts. The preparations towards that goal, however, entailed a much too close dedication, something I didn't seem able to keep."
-t
Dear t,
Thanks for the comment (this blog of mine strikes me as one in which comments are far much better than original posts) and kudos to Alberto for such an insight. I haven't finished yet Susan Blackmore's The Meme Machine, but it can interest you to know she tries to explain the very fact Alberto noticed in the light of the memes competition for survival.
Signs I'm growing old: showing less and less interest in swimming pools.
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