When I was very young I remember dad telling a story about me and my first experience with death. “I don’t want to die, Daddy”, I cried!! Dad, telling the story later and laughing loudly, said he told me I wasn’t going to die for a long, long time. When I was about 6, I remember a neighbor on our street in Hawthorne, planting a tree in their front yard. I remember it was taller than I was, probably 4 feet or so, and I thought, how long it would be before I was as tall as that tree. When I was 8 years old; a mere Wolf in the Cub Scouts, I couldn’t wait to be a Lion. I remember, anyone under the age of 12 got into the Plaza Theatre for 15 cents, and when I turned 12, lying for as long as I could so as to save the extra dime for snacks, while outwardly wishing that I was 13 and a full fledged teenager. At 13 I was entering the 8th grade but really wanted to be 14, and entering high school. At 14, and a freshman, I desperately wanted to drive, but would have to patiently wait to 15 and a half for a learners permit. Turning 16 on Sunday, August 28th and having to wait the extra day to apply for my first drivers license was almost more than I could handle, but the DMV on Birch and 127th St was almost closing when I got there. Running out of time I was told to return the following day. From birthday Sunday until Tuesday were the longest 2 days in my life, to this day. That was the summer of 1960 and in September of that year, the 11th grade was just around the corner. I, of course, couldn’t wait to be a senior. I remember graduating at the age of 17 when most of my friends were 18; I hated that. Remembering back, it was inconceivable how anyone could sign up for a twenty or thirty year mortgage. That was such a long time in a teens eye. Unbeknownst to me, youth was fleeting... In my 20s and 30s, I was at that age where I couldn’t imagine my parents “doing it”. I respectfully called my elders, Sir or Maam, and if anyone needed heavy lifting performed, then I was their guy. The sports heroes of my youth were Mickey Mantle, Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, and Gil Hodges.
I treated every day like the next, never realizing what was coming. The age of 49 brought with it the death of my father, and the realization that I was the oldest male Baker in the family…. this was very sobering. As a youth I remember being surrounded by parents, grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I was way down on the list of “people in charge” and all of a sudden the word “Elder” pops into my head. Still I reject the fact that youth has not only waned, but that I’m way past mid-life. Can it be that my own daughter has a hard time imagining her parents ever “doing it”? NO...... well, maybe but I still feel like that kid who loved his baseball heroes; now all retired, 75% of them in the Hall of Fame, and 75% of them dead. Unbeknownst to me, life is fleeting...
I went by that house on my old street in Hawthorne the other day, and that tree that I so much wanted to be taller than, is now a 3 foot diameter stump. How many can say they’ve outlived a tree?
Another sobering thought occurs... But 30 years ago was just 1974. That “1974 guy” is still inside me and I honestly feel like I did when I was 29 and counting. However, when a young girl gives me that certain smile in the supermarket line and asks if I want to go ahead of her, I’m old enough to know she’s looking at someone who is tired of holding that loaf of bread and bag of potatoes, and not someone she wants to ask to a high school dance. Oh God, I’m OLD!!!! |
I now realize that the “long long time” my father spoke of, was swiftly being consumed.
At 59 and counting, I’m now regularly called “Sir”. It doesn’t bother me as much as before, but when I go to the market for a loaf of bread and bag of potatoes, and a young box-girl asks if I need help out with my purchase, I wonder just how old I look to her. I’m perfectly capable of carrying my groceries to the car. Is she just being respectful of her “Elders”?