The year was 1964 and my date and I were driving over to Columbus, Mississippi to see a “flick” at the Princess Theatre. We didn’t get many first run movies in our area and if memory serves me, we were going to see some B grade film starring Bela Lugosi or a girl named “Gidget.”
January is the month of celebration – and the girls of the class of ‘65 always find something to celebrate. Doesn’t matter what it is – a good hair day, losing a half pound or escorting our gang into another year of life. It is rumored that Kool and the Gang stole the song “Celebrate Good Times” from us.
The answer to that question is easy. The “kids” I grew up with are no longer my playmates. They have become my family, and that family got together this weekend to celebrate another year of our lives. Above Bob Marshall, Carole Higgins Morton and Billy Damron journeyed to West Point to paint the town green and white one more time.
I had a colossal brainstorm today and I’m following through on it although there are surely some people who would consider it in bad taste and maybe even a tad macabre.
That’s what aging does for you. You really don’t care what anyone thinks when you’re on your soapbox.
First, let me back up and give you details on how I arrived at this freakish notion. Last month, a life-long friend with whom I talked at least once or twice a month for the past 30 years just up and died. There was no warning or suspicion that anything was wrong. Apparently he had a lurking heart condition which no one, including the doctors, ever suspected.
I heard that 2014 has been declared the Year of the Baby Boomer (those born between 1946 and 1964) since the babies of our group are turning 50 this year.
It’s about time boomers got some respect. We’re been maligned as a selfish, greedy, statin-sucking bunch of buffoons who type with our thumbs. In keeping with that reputation I’m making a different sort of New Year’s resolutions.