Glory Daze
“It’s time,” alerted my husband as the Super Bowl halftime show began. “Bruce is on!”
In the late ’70s, I was all over the Boss. He was the soundtrack to my most torrid college romance. But seeing Springsteen last night was poignant at best.
Scary, too. Because if he’s such an old man, I may be passing my prime as well. With change happening so fast, my Glory Days seem to have morphed into a ‘glory daze.’
Friday night at a younger friend’s karaoke-bar birthday, I didn’t know most of the songs. I couldn’t even name the genre. Techno pop? Hip hop? House music? I thought about going onstage, but it just didn’t seem like Patsy Cline or Harry Chapin would fit in.
We had Soup Night Saturday evening, and told everyone in advance it would be ‘screen-free.’ We played parlor games like Guess Who’s the Leader and Spoons--kids and adults together. It was a blast, but I know more than one person was having trouble wrapping their head around Nintendo being off.
They call us Neo-Luddites, those who read newspapers, send physical holiday cards, and look up phone numbers in the Yellow Pages. We’re named after the rebels who, during England’s Industrial Revolution, went around smashing the cotton gins that would take their jobs and ruin their way of life.
I know I have to go digital if I want to stay relevant. But wasn’t there something rich about children playing outside, people relating face-to-face, and songs having melodies?
There is much good about the Virtual Age, particularly the democratization of information. But I hope we can ‘make new friends and keep the old.’ I pray, as we over-50s clumsily try to remake ourselves for the new world, we can keep alive some things that made live meaningful before Facebook.
Watching Bruce took me back 30 years and 40 pounds. It also gave me yet another wake up call that my Glory Days are over unless I get with the program.
I’m working on being excited, feeling the thrill of learning new skills, embracing change with open arms. I’ll let you know when it kicks in.
In the late ’70s, I was all over the Boss. He was the soundtrack to my most torrid college romance. But seeing Springsteen last night was poignant at best.
Scary, too. Because if he’s such an old man, I may be passing my prime as well. With change happening so fast, my Glory Days seem to have morphed into a ‘glory daze.’
Friday night at a younger friend’s karaoke-bar birthday, I didn’t know most of the songs. I couldn’t even name the genre. Techno pop? Hip hop? House music? I thought about going onstage, but it just didn’t seem like Patsy Cline or Harry Chapin would fit in.
We had Soup Night Saturday evening, and told everyone in advance it would be ‘screen-free.’ We played parlor games like Guess Who’s the Leader and Spoons--kids and adults together. It was a blast, but I know more than one person was having trouble wrapping their head around Nintendo being off.
They call us Neo-Luddites, those who read newspapers, send physical holiday cards, and look up phone numbers in the Yellow Pages. We’re named after the rebels who, during England’s Industrial Revolution, went around smashing the cotton gins that would take their jobs and ruin their way of life.
I know I have to go digital if I want to stay relevant. But wasn’t there something rich about children playing outside, people relating face-to-face, and songs having melodies?
There is much good about the Virtual Age, particularly the democratization of information. But I hope we can ‘make new friends and keep the old.’ I pray, as we over-50s clumsily try to remake ourselves for the new world, we can keep alive some things that made live meaningful before Facebook.
Watching Bruce took me back 30 years and 40 pounds. It also gave me yet another wake up call that my Glory Days are over unless I get with the program.
I’m working on being excited, feeling the thrill of learning new skills, embracing change with open arms. I’ll let you know when it kicks in.
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