The May, December Conundrum

There was a time when he was quite comfortable with his ageing. What the hell, he thought, he had a taste of everything he wanted to do in life. He had a shot at Baseball with Dodgers. He had his time in the sun with his music both playing and composing. He met and married the great love of his life and had a great if not impossible family which was still growing. He had his shot at being a rising star at a fledgling Motion Picture company which to this day was seeped in lore about the owners and players. He even did some time with a boring financial institution and for a time was a shooting star when he formulated an estimate system they never could put in place before him. Then, he even had his shot at acting performing in a few notable series and plays. He never hit the home run, but with warning track power he had tasted it all including trips to Brazil which he'd never forget. He even had the great privilege to take care of his mom and wife when they became too weak to take care of themselves. He wasn't a presence anywhere but he knew his dreams when he was a kid and he tasted them all, now who could say that?" Who was lucky enough to live that great a life?"  he asked himself.

He was settling into his life acknowledging that although he tasted all he wanted. That was the past and this is the now and the now didn't give him much of a chance to repeat the great moments because they were gone never to be repeated. He certainly couldn't play ball without making a fool of himself. Business had no use for him as they were too busy picking the younger sets' brains as were the acting community where unless he experienced a Joe Peschi moment he wouldn't be doing much performing anymore. He'd love to visit Brazil again but with whom? However, don't get the wrong idea, he wasn't despondent, he was at peace with his predicament. He knew who he was and where he was in life and was perfectly comfortable in accepting it all as he went about his business and waited for the inevitable.

Then completely out of the blue he met her. She was a kid as far as he was concerned. They knew each other briefly many years ago but lost each other as their lives consumed them while they attended to the demands that each one's life placed on them. They only had a brief meeting but she touched something in him that he thought died with his wife. When he talked with her there was an excitement connected to a feeling of trying to please not for any reason just to make her feel good. He couldn't help thinking of her but didn't want her to think he was obsessing because she had a life of her own and certainly couldn't see him in the same way. Besides, where would any arrangement lead? But then he thought why does it have to lead anywhere. Could it just exist without any demands that come with youthful  or long term relationships? As he floated this idea to confidants on a hypothetical basis he was laughed at. "What the hell would any young woman want with an old codger like you?" they would jibe. He'd go away with his tail between his legs thinking they were right after all once maybe he was a hunk back when he dazzled the gals in his twenties but now, old. bald and a wreck. "Who the hell would want that?", he thought.

While all this was going on upsetting his complacency he had settled into he acknowledged he never felt so alive. He never felt so young in years. The spark of love, if this is what we could call this, was waking him up to the fact that he should not be waiting in his complacency for the inevitable but should be grabbing whatever moments the day had to offer because they may never be offered again and his life would have a big hole in it because he never saw the chance to live  the moment. The risk was terrible though it was filled with rejection, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He couldn't really approach the subject without the fear of ridicule, without the thought that he had nothing really to offer her. The more he thought about this the more he had the "September Song" rambling around in his mind:

But it's a long, long while from May to December

And the days grow short when you reach September

When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame 

And I haven't got time for the waiting game.

For the days dwindle down to the precious few

September, November

And these few precious days I'd spend with you

These Golden days I'd spend with you

When you meet with the young men early in Spring

They'd court you in song and rhyme

They woo you with word and a clover ring

But if you examine the goods they bring

They have little to offer but the songs they sing

And a plentiful waste of time of day, a plentiful waste of time

But it's a long long while from May to December

And the days grow short when you reach September

And the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame

And I haven't got time for the waiting game

For the days dwindle down to a precious few

September, November

And these few precious days I'd spend with you

These golden days I'd spend with you

He thought if he was younger he'd overwhelm her with all he had to offer and if she rejected him he'd go out and get drunk. But he grudgingly admitted to himself, he wasn't younger, and he couldn't drink the way he once could. So he just took what he had and tried to make sense of it all.