Does anyone still say Hubba Hubba or is that one of those dated phrases only old people say?
It is never passed through my lips in reference to a woman or any experience I have had because it always sounded silly to me.
Probably because the first time I remember hearing I was a boy who thought that any reference to kissing/romance was gross.
I think the first movie I ever saw by myself was Major League, but I am not positive.
I saw it within a week or two of it coming out back in ’89 and 27 years later some things have faded a bit.
What hasn’t is the memory about how it made me decide I would have to go visit Cleveland one day.
Some of you may question that, but I assure you it is true.
If you ask me if I felt like I had to go searching for someone or something I’ll nod my head and say absolutely.
Twenty-seven years later it is the most sensible answer I have, but it is possible my memory is colored there.
Confessions About Cleveland & Other Stuff
My teenager told me the other day about how much he holds back and how people don’t really know him.
I laughed and told him I remember feeling the same way and that oftentimes I still feel the same way.
He told me he was surprised to hear that and I told him that some people complain that I don’t share any of my thoughts and some say I share too much.
“Dad, that is contradictory. You can’t do both.”
I told him he was right and that I doubt the people who think I share too much really know me.
“There are a few who I am certain know me well and some might know me better than I think. Sometimes that can be a good thing.”
I told him we all need to have at least one person we can really speak with and that if we are lucky we feel comfortable talking about anything with them.
“If you find someone like that, try not to lose them.”
He said ok, but I don’t think he really understood how serious I am.
The conversation reminded me of a Stephen King quote that has stuck with me.
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”
That picture of the bridge makes me smile because it makes me think of a secret world.
You know, your own private hideaway where you can push aside your concerns and stop letting responsibility bully you into living a certain way.
A place where you can catch your breath and recognize what you do for societal reasons and what you do because you want to.
It is funny because the older I get the more contradictory I become.
I am more likely to just go along and get along in some areas and absolutely unwilling to do so in others.
And sometimes I wonder who else might agree and be in that position.
Sometimes I wonder if we had real and honest discussions if I would find I wasn’t the only one who felt like that.
Can’t only be me, but you never know who will be willing to lay it all out there and say yes and who won’t.
That kind of honesty scares the pants off of some and not always in the kind of way you want or hope.
Aging Isn’t Easy But It Is Not Hard Either
I am not a big fan of some of the physical changes that come with growing older.
My body doesn’t always respond or react as I expect it to anymore and there are moments where it really irks me.
Some friends and family say I don’t have a good poker face and that you always know when I am irritated.
One told me not long ago that sometimes I get this look that can scare people.
I don’t know if that is true but I am sad to report I can’t just glare at my body and get it to stop screwing around.
Can’t bark at it and make it recognize that 5 or more miles of walking each day should yield specific results and that I won’t accept this slacking.
It is not that I am not seeing results because I am, but they aren’t where they should be.
Guess I am going to have to adjust things a bit.
On the other hand, some things about aging are pretty easy. I don’t have to do a damn thing except wake up, breathe and live each day.
It is that easy and sometimes it is that hard.
If my grandfathers were still around I’d tell them they are both responsible for my throwing logs around the park.
If they asked for specific examples I’d share them.
I’d tell my paternal about how I watched him run across five lanes at LAX when he was in his eighties and how a few years later I didn’t see him move very fast at all.
My maternal grandfather told me about how he was frustrated he couldn’t just pick my grandmother up and run with her anymore.
“Josh, I used to give her piggy back rides and I’d run.”
I’d nod and ask how old he was and sometimes he’d say 17 or 20.
Occasionally grandma would share something and the two of them would laugh.
The last time he said it to me was a little while before grandma died.
“Grandpa, how old are you now?”
“I am 93. Do we need to get you checked out, you should know that.”
We both laughed and I asked him if he was being hard on himself.
He got serious and told me that some things about aging were easy and then said he wasn’t particularly fond of watching his friends and family die.
“It is how it goes, but it would be easier if my body didn’t go with it.”
And that is part of why I walk around the park each day and throw logs around.
I figure as long as I can pick up 40 or 50 pounds and move it around my body won’t just go.
Speaking of just going, one of these days I’ll have to finally go to Cleveland and show myself around.
Maybe I’ll find whatever it was I supposed to all those years ago.