I am not sure why as we get older it seems like we get crankier.
Maybe it is that we get set in our ways, and, in conjunction, get long enough in the tooth to speak out about what we will tolerate. And, at the same time, we--or at least I--seem to not get plugged into the drama of life and those around us quite as much as when we were young.
I have thought about this a lot, for next year, that is in 2012, I will turn 60 years old, which seems kind of strange. Maybe you don't know that odd sensation of looking at yourself in the mirror in the morning, and the reflection has more lines than you remember, and the amount of hair that resides atop your head is less than it was the night before, and you wonder "what happened?"
Not that I want to go back in time or change anything or have regrets.
And, I am not trying to be morbid or wax any more poetic than normal, but, especially since coming back from music camp this year, I find myself way more detached than ever before.
Mind you, it is always kind of a culture shock returning, kind of like coming back home from a foreign country can make things on the street feel odd when you return home from a trip. Only this camp is only around 90 miles from where I live in the bay area, in Cazadero. Cazadero is a small town near the Russian River, and the camp is run by the City of Berkeley for all the year but two weeks over the summer, when it is family camp.
And, that is when we go, hooking with a bunch of friends who also go each year to the same session, and many of whom I play music with when at home.
It is just great, and relaxing, largely because there is no internet, no cell service, no wi fi, no opportunity to be wired or plugged in at all, save guitar amps and pedals into electric sockets.
Now, I have to admit at first, as with any addiction, the initial withdrawal from my iPhone is tough. And, in some instances, like my friend Lindsay, who was in my ukelele class, using hers for the "Uke Chords" app she plucked from the "Applications" tab (I have it as well, along with a beat processor and tuners for both guitar and bass).
But, after a day or so, the urge to check my email and compulsively hit enter to update box scores and my team numbers wears off, along with whatever is in the news and what happened to the stock market, and even which famous people made whose news for what reason. And, somehow that is really restorative. Not that playing music all day in a redwood grove all day is not also good for the soul (or at least mine).
Yet this year, even at camp things just did not seem to matter so much that by the time Diane and I got home Sunday, it was a couple of hours before I checked my teams. And, true to form they all performed poorly (see my KFFL piece this week on the subject) meaning maybe a little of my indifference is the result of my team's struggles.
I am slowly getting back in the groove, having worked the Athletics game yesterday, and a couple of good homer days from Russell Martin and Mike Carp, along with knowing there are still six weeks to go for the season is making me feel hopeful. Plus there are football drafts ahead, and both my Strat-O-Matic and Scoresheet teams are cranking along just fine.
But, as I get older and look in the mirror, I will keep wondering "what happened?"