Had a little birthday...

there, in the past few days, which got me to thinking. And you know something? damn I really like where I'm at in life. Really. It's a good age, fairly healthy, fair amount of disposable income. Good people in my life -- longterm friends, family, and a smattering of children who, though I'm not responsible for their daily welfare, will be around in the future, if the past 15 or 20 years are any indicator. It's fun watching them make those transitions from children to school-aged to teens to young adults. Feel sorry for those around 15 or 16 right now, gas being high I think they're the ones most affected. It makes you feel good to slip them a $20 at family gatherings, ostensibly for a "missed birthday" months ago, really more because you know they could use that $20 in gas more joyfully than you would miss it. In short, I do like my current lifestyle, aging though I am. In fact, just a few days ago I was online, and came across this, which I thought I'd post as further proof of my permanent (or least current) coolness factor. (I want this one in the permanent record.)

Yes, I was there -- the Fire meets the Fury. Jeff Beck with the late, great Stevie Ray Vaughan. Truth be told, it was more my beau at the time, who was into great guitar. He was 25 right around then; I was a fresh 21-year-old, finishing up my last year of college after having spent the spring quarter and summer working on a copydesk in South Florida. He was a pressman who joined the paper out of high school, and was physically fit from running up and down the stairs responding to jams (before they installed a new, high-tech color press) and from having to walk everywhere that summer because he had temporarily lost his license. (That was before I had met him, so I didn't really judge on that.) Anyways, we were two young Libras in love. He came to Chicago to visit for his birthday, and I scored nosebleed seats at the UIC Pavilion. It was a great concert, another story of expanding your horizons via love. For spring break that year, I flew down to Florida and remember he was driving a muscle car by then, which we took to the Keys for a few days, playing Santana all the way down. Alas, it was more a friendly relationship continued long distance, than a "meant for each other" pining, but I'm glad, and pretty lucky I guess, to have happy memories, photos and letters from past "beaus" like this.

Plus, who cares about aging when you can tell the kids you saw Jeff Beck and Stevie Ray jamming way back when, on a tour where one guy would open one night, the other the next, and eventually they'd share the stage and gift us all with their greatness?