SLOW RIDE: WELCOME TO THE 70s

Slow ride

Take it easy

I've always liked that rock classic released by Foghat in 1975. The pounding beat, thumping bass line, and sex-drenched lyrics spoke clearly to the twenty-six-year-old version of myself. You could practically smell the testosterone in the air as the music blasted through the speakers.

Now I've somehow reached the grand old age of seventy six and I'm here to welcome those of you about to step across the threshold into your seventh decade on earth. I've learned some truths about the 70s over the past six years. I don't claim to speak for all septuagenarians because a lot of them are dead. Here's what I've learned. Your mileage may vary.

I'm a little (okay, a lot) slower now.

And that's okay. I no longer run marathons, but I walk most days and feel healthy and fit. I'm still interested in sex. The little blue pill is my friend. The point is I've made some accommodations to aging without giving up and giving in to it. Getting older is no walk in the park, but it feels good to get up each morning and start moving. If almost everyone passes me on my walks, so what? Once upon a time I would have left them in the dust. The point is, you will slow down. Accept it, or at least get over it.

Speaking of aging...

… I spend more time considering my mortality and what's left of my diminishing future, but not in a morbid way. For me, it's a practical consideration. Will I be able to stay in my home? When will I have to stop driving? What transitional options should I be thinking about? I'm not a bucket list kind of person, but I can say that there's nowhere I haven't been that I am dying to see and nothing I haven't done that I am dying to do. If there were, I'm fortunate to be in a position to do it. I enjoy the current version of my life and want to be around as long as possible.

The present keeps slipping away.

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin' into the future.

Thank you Steve Miller. Time may move forward, but in my seventh decade on this planet I find myself frequently running counterclockwise. That's not to say that I dwell on the past, but let's be honest: most of my life is behind me, so it's natural that I spend time reflecting on the life I've lived and how I got here. The thoughts and memories usually come unbidden – when I'm on a walk, a long drive, or listening to a particular song. Music has a lot of triggers for me, some good, some not so much. We all have memories. Some of mine, especially the good ones, are bittersweet because there weren't enough of them and it's too late to create more. Nevertheless, they're part of my past and also a cherished part of my present.

Keep going.

Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you.

I love this quote attributed to the seemingly ageless major league pitcher, Satchel Paige. Satch didn't spend a lot of time in school, but this is the kind of wisdom you're unlikely to find in a textbook.

I celebrate the small things every day – loading and unloading the dishwasher without straining my back, putting my pants on standing up, unloading the washing machine without falling in, bending over to pick something up off the floor. Okay, the last one's a lie. I drop down and take a knee now. I'm afraid if I tried bending down that far I might keep going and do a face plant or a front somersault. Seriously. The point is I'm doing everything I can to keep going and maintain my independence, and I give myself credit for it.

The alternative is ugly. Depression is a silent killer of seniors. You've reached the age where family, classmates, and old friends are dying. It's easy to give in and take a slow ride down the drain on a tide of solitude, inactivity, alcohol, and fast food. Or worse. Fight it. Better days are ahead, and if they aren't fight it anyway. Kick its ass.

Am I enough? Was I enough?

Who's to say. Not me, but that doesn't stop me from poking and prodding at those questions like a sunflower seed caught between my teeth.

It's hard not to weigh the positives and negatives, tallying them like a lifetime of debits and credits in an accounting ledger. I think I'm on the positive side, but the question still remains. My concern is only for the people in my life, the hope that they're glad that I've been part of theirs. I have no expectation that the answers to such weighty questions will be revealed to me after I die, and at that point it won't matter.

Matters of this nature inevitably lead me around in circles, so I try not to dwell on them. Philosophy and metaphysics aren't my thing. If you're grappling with questions like these, don't let them suffocate you or rule your life. We're all doing the best we can.

So, there you have it, a thoroughly subjective, first person account of the 70s. I hope you've enjoyed my little tour and that the 70s is your best decade ever.

And remember, it's never to late to take a...

Slow ride, take it easy

Slow ride, take it easy.

Ronald Paxton is the author of nine novels, sixty short stories, and one children's book. He is also a published poet and essayist. Mr. Paxton's short fiction has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net award.