Forever Young (Joan Baez) just asked too much of us

Listening to Joan Baez sing 'Forever Young' made me sad. It's a wonderful, loving wish for a life, every word. One of the anthems of a generation. Even its words forget those who never were young.

A real Boomer though will tell you it's the old souls she's singing to, not those who couldn't feel the energy of that generation. The dawning of the Age of Aquarius is really a few hundred years yet.

The cutting edge, first adopters, those who thought the world had not changed enough to catch up with their shared vision, were only a small slice of that generation. The oldest Boomers are in their 70s now, and many still have the Cold War etched into their bones.

The poetic words at  the end -- sounding very much like an Irish farewell -- may have asked too much of anyone.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

The generation that set out to change the world succeeded. It didn't change itself so much though. The idealism of the Boomers is more broadly reflected in the Gen Ys.  The Boomers became first neoliberals then neoconservatives, inexorably failing Baez' prayer to "always be courageous" to always be defensive by sliding to the right, losing much of the intrinsic joy along the way.

Politics became personal and then too personal, as one very human contradiction after conflict stumbled over one another in chaotic competition as technology continued its trajectory far ahead of the social and psychological.

Wildfire still runs in the Carmel Valley

I turned 60 a little while ago. It came as a surprise for many reasons. Somehow I thought some idiot would have blown me and the rest of the world up long ago. I never thought I'd see 60 years old  It never even occurred to me. Or, maybe, I thought I'd be too busy to even notice.

One way or the other, I noticed. I noticed the day growing nearer, and couldn't help becoming a little nostalgic.

A few years ago, I decided to let my beard grow out. I was shocked. There was no rich brown mass with swirling blond highlights. It looked all white at first. Then, as the stiff hairs filled in, salt and pepper: a lot more salt than pepper, to be sure. I suppose that should have been a warning...

Even a few years ago, my hair only had a few grey tinges around the edges. It was curly and unruly as ever. Now, at 60, it's a lot straighter, with grey streaks running from front to back. -- It just seems too soon somehow...

About the same time I let my beard grow out I was in love, and happened across one of my old, now ancient, favorite songs on YouTube: "The Battle of New Orleans" by Johnny Horton. Listening and singing along, I started remembering other songs that had stuck in my head for one reason or another through the years.

I have to admit some songs touched my heart. Some so tenderly, there was a lump in my throat that forced a few tears.

Funny how you attach moments in your life to songs and places. This post, for example, was inspired by "Wildfire" by Michael Martin Murphey. Wildfire is a song I connect to a beautiful northern California valley, full or art and wonder. The greatest wonder of all though was the woman I loved then.

I've listened to about 50 old (ancient) songs now. Some, not all, I connect to one love or another.

"By the dark of the moon I hunted
But there came an early snow
There's been a hoot-owl howling by my window now
For six nights in a row
She's coming for me, I know
And on Wildfire we're both gonna go..."