My reticence to criticize is well-known, but on occasion I feel duty bound to comment. For instance, on the bus yesterday a young woman had her mini-mini skirt half-way to third base coming within a hair (so to speak) of exposing her most private nether regions. This may be “fashion,” but in my day, it strongly implied a serious moral laxity, i.e. slut. Not so shocking, but intriguing, were her wildly decorated fingernails; probably glued-on shells, but I envisioned the painting was a fun part of a pajama party. In my high school days the idea of the jocks (and me) “funnin’ around” at such an activity often led to fantasies of wrist-numbing potency. As for the nails, add hair extensions, capped teeth, “enhanced” tits, botoxed lips and brows, fake eyelashes, contact lenses, etc. and one can imagine her date’s horror on finding out she’s Ma Kettle (ask a senior). Don’t misunderstand me; there’s nothing wrong with a bit of artifice to show oneself to the best advantage, but it requires knowing the limits. The LGBT community has always led the fashion trends and our age should not change that. Sure, our hair, face and body have changed and the new styles may not work for us, but we still can and should take pride in our appearance. Let’s face facts and have fun trying on and trying out the many options for a new 21st century look. With careful thought and discretion we’ll emerge as attractive, handsome senior men and women still worthy of admiring glances.
Visiting the past
When we seniors visit our hometown or places of past importance, we find the clarity of memory retreats further with each visit and familiarity with people and places becomes rarer. This was true with my recent visit to Tokyo, my home for forty years. The places I recognized were older, smaller and shabbier. The same might be said of my friends. Luckily, I have remained miraculously unchanged; everyone said so. On campus things were less successful as both sides scrambled to remember names. Luckily, I could hide behind calling everyone “sensei,” honorable teacher. For them, the challenge resulted in my being greeted as Bill, Bob, Ben and Victor(!) by my former colleagues. I couldn’t visit my old office because the building was gone. In fact, there were so many new structures replacing now vanished ones I felt like a first day freshman. Likewise, renovated train and subway stations left me completely confused and lost; old haunts were gone, sometimes the entire block; the new bars and gay venues were filled with not a single known face or anyone approaching my age. Like it or not, the passing years have brought undeniable changes to all aspects of my memory. Similar experiences are faced by all seniors who, I think, join me in admitting to feelings of confusion and sadness, yet the inevitability of ruin and renewal forces us, as adults, to accept the reality and consequences of the life cycle. Time passes and so must we … but not just yet, please.
