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"A Certain Age" is the Perfect Age


When I was growing up, I remember hearing people describing men "of a certain age." The phrase was used with a hushed tone...a muted phrasing that somehow implied respect and insult at the same time. There was reverence co-existing with sadness, gratitude for the longevity the person had achieved along with poor prospects for long term survival. It was like listening to someone talking about a friend who had finally scored the girl of his dreams and was happier than ever....but that she was 20 years younger than him. You could almost hear someone say: 

"I'm glad he's happy but it will never last."

Now, I'm a man "of a certain age"...49 to be exact...and I am also happier than ever...in my marriage, work, and artistic expression. And, as in the analogy, I also know that time cannot stand still. This age cannot last forever.

In moments of reflection and activity, silence and noise, I've realized that middle-age is the "sweet spot" of life. If you're lucky (and I do count myself as VERY lucky), you've kept most of your physical ability and cognition. You've learned a thing or two about the way that the world works and how to keep friendships going (like...for decades). You know what you're capable of and, if you're truly fortunate, you know what it is you want out of the time you have. You also know that just because you CAN do something doesn't mean you HAVE to. 

I'm part of a living example of why being a man "of a certain age" is so damned wonderful. I'm the bassist for a six man rock and roll band called "The Sun King Warriors." A few times a month, I get to share the stage with five other guys (ranging in age from late 40's to mid-50s) who play with the ferocity of 20-somethings. These men have seen some things in their lives and they know who they are. They are entrepreneurs and teachers. They are artists and mentors. Half of us are raising (or have raised kids). Some have been through divorce. All of us have been through love, loss, and grief. 


There is a cohesion to this group of guys I've never quite felt in a band before, and everyone within the circle gets it. A militant and undying mutual respect, a quiet but unequivocal acknowledgement that we are indeed members of a club that required dues be paid to get in. Struggles. Life experiences. Amidst the crude humor and digs at each other, the foundation of loyalty and trust grounds everything else. There is no drama. There are seldom even arguments...only a circle of men "of a certain age" serving as examples to remind each other of our individual and combined strength. 

When we gather, a collective "swagger" emerges. Make no mistake, this vibe isn't arrogance; it's awareness. The individual confidence embedded in each one of us swirls and amplifies, like electromagnets making the coalescing field deeper, stronger, and more powerful. The people who like our shows feel it too; a calm strength that they get to be a part of and to which they contribute. Strength begets strength. The gravity draws in satellites to become part of the bigger system. 


While we mainly play original music, our favorite songs make their way onto the set list...but it's no longer primarily a mechanical challenge to learn them. That's not to say that we don't have to work, but the skills and fundamentals are already in our hands, ears, and brains, courtesy of over 30 years of experience in each of us. Unlike 20-something us, we know that if we work at it, we'll get it. The soft machine is capable and ready, and has freed the soul to concentrate on expression...on finding meaning...and on choosing how it wants to speak.

The music is important. We are all very proud of the songs, the stage show, and the sound. The collective musical knowledge that flows in the air around me at gigs is almost staggering. These men can shred when they want to...but they know how to make space for the five other guys...and that's the true secret sauce of the band: A knowledge of what matters in life, namely how you spend your time and who you spend it with. 


Not a week of my life goes by that I don't have a great phone conversation with at least one of these guys. Sometimes it's heavy; sometimes it's funny as hell. We look forward to our hang time at shows as much as the actual gigs. This is the good stuff and we know it.

I can honestly say that 49 has been my favorite age so far. While the lines on my face remind me that the veneer of youth is wearing thin, I can still move around a stage like I did when I was half my age. I can still run a mile, albeit with more aches and pains than before. As a teacher, I can laugh at my own mistakes in front of a room full of college students without feeling like a failure, and in the process perhaps remind these young people that life is far too short to worry about perpetual perfection. As a musician and performer, I still get to rock a stage with dudes who understand what life is about.


It will never last, however. Nothing is forever.

The warning shots get louder as you move into the "big 5-0." Friends develop health problems. Marriages end. People in your circle die (some of them younger than you). Reaching back into your brain to retrieve old memories isn't as fast (or clear) as it used to be, and even at just past the mid-point of your anticipated lifespan, you realize some of it is just gone or relegated to a deeper part of the brain than you have access to. Time and energy are finite, and the gas gauge for them is invisible. We will never know how much is truly left in our tank.

These are not reasons for fear, but for celebration. For grabbing the moment and squeezing every drop of life out of it. For being thankful that you get to play the best shows (or to be part of the best "whatever matters to you most") of your life. This is the time to embrace your experience and skill and to enjoy it with confidence and, dare I say, swagger. 


Every time I step on stage beside these five guys, I know exactly how lucky I am. It seems to me that it would be disrespectful NOT to enjoy the hell out of what I get to do with every fiber of my being. There will come a time when we DON'T get to do this anymore; while I hope those days are far in the future, we know what John Lennon says about life being something that happens while we are "making other plans." 

To my fellow people "of a certain age": Enjoy your time on the stage. It truly is the performance of a lifetime. 



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