Among the endless stream of frightening news about COVID -19 came a piece the other day that really stood out for me. Evidently the European Union has asked Netflix to slow down their streaming for fear of some type of Internet crash. With movie houses, museums, theaters, restaurants, bars and music venues all shuttered, millions of people are stuck inside, many of them binging endlessly on Netflix. I began to wonder whether this hypothetical crash would also effect music streaming platforms like Spotify and Pandora. Most people that I know have long ago sold off their vinyl and cd collections, so they’re limited to streaming music online or listening to what they’ve uploaded to their various devices. I do have much of my music collection on the hard drive of our Mac, but I’ve also held onto hundreds of cds and even 150 or so vinyl LPs. We have an old school audio set up in our living room complete with cd/dvd player, powerful floor speakers, analog amplifier and…a turntable! No Bluetooth or Internet connection required for operation. If the entire online music system were to temporarily crash, I’d still be able to bust out an actual hard copy of The Rolling Stones 1969 classic Let It Bleed. A world without hugs and real human contact is difficult enough. A world without Merry Clayton’s incendiary vocal turn on Gimme Shelter is unbearable.

There’s a real comfort in owning something tangible. If you’ve downloaded Let It Bleed, what do you actually have? A bunch of 0’s and 1’s, that’s what. With a vinyl or cd copy you own something that you can hold in your hands. Pop it in and hit “play” or drop the needle and be transported to the dark side by the haunting guitar licks of Keith Richards. Then of course there’s the cover, one of the most iconic in all of rock and roll. That wild “layer cake” consisting of, from bottom to top, the album master tape tin, a clock face, a pizza, a bicycle tire and finally an actual cake topped with figurines of the band members. Below all of this the actual LP sits on a turntable spindle waiting to spin its magic. If you own the vinyl LP you get the dust sleeve with full song credits plus the band’s instructions, in no uncertain terms that THIS RECORD SHOULD BE PLAYED LOUD.

One of the reasons this virus is so scary is because of its intangibility. You can’t see it, you can’t touch it, you can’t smell it. It could nowhere. It could be everywhere. At this moment I am incredibly grateful for the real, tangible things in life; Carol and our children, our friends, the soft purr of our kitty when we rub her tummy, the smell of coffee in the morning, the avian traffic jam at our bird feeders, the solid wood feel and steel string jangle of my acoustic guitar, sunrises, sunsets and music, sweet, sweet music. I’m heading for the cd player right now with Let It Bleed clutched firmly in my hand and I plan on following Mick and Keith’s instructions to the T!

“Who Knows Where The Time Goes?” Judy Collins’ sad, sweet and achingly beautiful voice fills the room. I recently picked up a vinyl copy of this album for $1 at the only record store left in my town. The minor pops and scratches adding a little extra warmth and authenticity to the song. When Judy Blue Eyes first sang this song she was in her twenties. Like most twenty year olds her whole life stretched out before her; a seemingly endless road of unlimited possibilities. At that age time moves at a snail’s pace and the future is alive with promise. No need to look back when there’s so much still ahead. Through her interpretation of that song, Ms Collins was able to brilliantly convey so much of the sadness, longing and melancholy that comes with the passing of time. Not bad for a 28 year old.

When I was in my twenties I never wondered, nor did I care, where the time had gone. I was too busy looking ahead and planning for my future. Now of course more of my life is behind me than there is before me. I have no idea where the time is going but I do know wherever it’s going, it’s going much faster than I’d like it to go. A friend of mine recently compared this phenomenon to an exhibit at The Exploratorium in San Francisco. There’s this large funnel type thing, four feet or so in diameter with a hole at the bottom. A marble is released at the top of the funnel and makes concentric circles as it descends towards the hole. The circles are long and slow at first but the marble gradually picks up speed and the circles get smaller the closer the marble gets to the bottom. Right now time for me feels like that marble heading for the end of the funnel.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am not a fatalist. I’m certainly not sitting around marking time just waiting for the end. I’ve got a lot of living to do and I’ll live life to it’s fullest until I draw my last breath. Like Dylan Thomas famously wrote, I plan to “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” The pace at which time seems to be moving however does add a real sense of urgency to my life.

I think I’m in better physical condition than most 63 year old men. I work out. I swim. I bike. I have a happy life with a loving family and close friends. I don’t think of myself as old but one look at the thinning grey hair, age spots and little paunch around my middle belies that belief. Frankly, the mirror these days isn’t exactly my friend. Being the father of twins and an elementary school teacher have helped to both keep me young and age me. You can damn well believe that I’ve earned every grey hair on my head.

One of the unsettling things about aging for me is that it’s totally new and previously uncharted territory. We often fear what we don’t know and this is definitely a little scary. I can observe people around me who are aging and talk with them to gain their perspectives. However, the bottom line is my experience with aging is unique to me. Yes I can learn from others and the key I think is to apply that knowledge to my own experience. Being at peace with and accepting the facts of aging are important steps in fully coming to terms with the process. Much like a journey on psychedelics, the only way out is through.

There are upsides to all of this business of course. Take for example the Senior Discount. There’s nothing like getting a dollar off at the movie theater to help assuage my fears and anxieties over growing old.  I recently ate at a health food restaurant in San Diego and  received  what was euphemistically called a “wisdom discount.” Let me just get a few more years under my belt and I’ll qualify for priority boarding on airplanes along with parents of small children, people in wheelchairs and members of the military. When my gnarled, arthritic fingers can no longer manipulate laces, buttons and zippers there will always be velcro. So at least I’ve got that going for me. 

“Rage, rage against the dying of the light!!”