Long-Haired Dude — photo by me

That classic song by The Who.

The ballad of those who came before me.

I was four months old when “My Generation” was released.

I really started loving The Who’s music during my freshman year of high school.

“I hope I die before I get old…”

Nope. Not even a little bit. I knew, even in high school, that I wanted to die old, not even a little bit before that.

Fast forward about 35 years after high school.

I’m living on the opposite coast from where I grew up, but I am still going to concerts of artists that remind me of my younger days.

Last week we saw .38 Special, Cheap Trick and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Last night we saw Jason Bonham (John Bonham’s amazing son), WhiteSnake and Foreigner. All of these artists brought back a whole lot of memories from days gone by.

This lady was really getting down at the concert tonight. #coolpoints

I’m not exactly old (although my 20 year old self might tell you differently) and I was in good company at both concerts.

I saw people older than I am that had the most amazing tattoos and piercings! Yes, they were older, but damn! They weren’t old! They were cool as hell.

At a newly acquired 53? I’m feeling like my life is beginning, again.

I’ve raised four children, three of whom I’ve given birth to, and the hubs and I are empty-nesters. Our lives reset, yet again! This, in my old opinion, is awesome!

The lyrics, “I hope I die before I get old,” strike fear in my heart.

How old, exactly, is old?

When I was in my teens, 35+ was old. In my 30’s, 50+ was old. I’m now in my 50’s and the 70–80 range seems old. In any case? I’m not trying to die before I get old.

(Talkin’ ‘bout my generation…)

Let’s look, instead, at the lyrics of Jethro Tull’s “Life’s a Long Song:”

“When you’re falling awake and you take stock of the new day
and you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say,well, don’t you fret, don’t you fear,
I will give you good cheer.

Life’s a long song.
Life’s a long song.
Life’s a long song.

If you wait then your plate I will fill.

As the verses unfold and your soul suffers the long day,
and the twelve o’clock gloom spins the room,
you struggle on your way
Well, don’t you sigh, don’t you cry,
lick the dust from your eye.

Life’s a long song.
Life’s a long song.
Life’s a long song.

We will meet in the sweet light of dawn.

As the Baker Street train spills your pain all over your new dress,
and the symphony sounds underground put you under duress,
well don’t you squeal as the heel grinds you under the wheel.

Life’s a long song.
Life’s a long song.
Life’s a long song.

But the tune ends too soon for us all.”

This is how I’d prefer to live my life; as a long song.