Hey Joe
October 5, 2017

Joe BeckA little over three weeks ago, I had to do another funeral for a friend. As a preacher, weddings and funerals are part of the gig. Weddings are mostly fun, at least in the beginning. Funerals, however, are bitter sweet. This one, of Joe Beck, was sweet because he’s with the Lord, but bitter because I won’t see him again.

Some funerals are hard for me. I’ve done my dad’s, my brother-in-law Tom’s, Bonnie’s mom Nadine, and friend’s parents. I rarely get my own time to grieve. So let me use this as a final chance to grieve. This funeral was hard.

Joe was a character, to say the least. He had a hard time hearing, a hard time saying “no” when people were in need, and just an all around good guy. We say that at funerals, don’t we? “He was a good guy”. “She was a great gal”. But Joe truly was a great guy.

I performed his and Cindy’s wedding. I went to see Bob Dylan with Joe and our friends, Rich and Roberta. Joe and my wife Bonnie aren’t big Dylan fans, go figure, so Joe was my date. We shared many bonfires, Christmas parties, and work days at the church. We talked often how that for some reason God saved us from ourselves as we should be dead. But for some reason, we were alive.

We ran with some of the same people in the past, and it was amazing that we didn’t run into each other, unless of course, we did when we were drunk. We both became Christians, and continually thanked God for not letting us turn our craziness and debauchery into death, and that He saved us for a reason.

We always had a routine we did in church. Whoever would see the other one first, one of us would say, “Hey Joe,” and the other would respond ” where you going with that gun in your hand”. (For you young folks, this is a line from a classic Jimi Hendrix song, “Hey Joe”).  As we would leave church we always hugged and gave each other a kiss on the cheek. (2 Cor. 13:12- “Greet each other with a holy kiss”.)  None of this was ever premeditated, but it just happened. And neither one minded.

He sat on the right side of the church, first row. Those of you who know me sometimes are aware that I ad lib a bit. I do that in my sermons, and when I did, it usually included a friendly jab at Joe, teasing him. He would turn red, but always smiled, the congregation would laugh, and Joe would say, “Well if you’re picking on me, you’re leaving other people alone.”  I always told him, “I only pick on the ones I love.

He always talked about “Going home”. He knew he had an eternal home waiting for him and was ready to go. I know he didn’t want to leave Cindy or his kids and grand kids, but he certainly wanted to go home. We both talked about wanting to “go home”.

The Sunday before he died, we gave each other a kiss on the cheek and he started to walk away. He turned around and said, “Hey keep me in prayer. The doctor says that I only have 20% of my heart working. They’re putting me on a transplant list, but I’m almost 70, they’re not going to give me a heart.” “Of course”, I said. Four days later he was dead.

So he died, 4 days before his 70th birthday. He shared his birthday with Bonnie, and they were birthday buddies.  It’s hard not seeing him in the front row. It’s hard seeing how his wife Cindy and sister Sue still mourn. Death is the great equalizer. An old Italian proverb says, “At the end of the game, the pawn and the King go into the same box.” That’s how death works.

He went home. I miss him.

Hey Joe, where you going with that gun in your hand?

 

 

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So Unfo……what was I talking about?
June 11, 2017

 

forgetful

So, the one thing I am consistent on is my inconsistency. I didn’t realize that it has been two months since my last blog. It’s not that I didn’t have anything to say, as that rarely happens, but it’s not on my radar. I forget. I’m not focused.

I love writing (or typing) but it appears that I am not doing what I love to do best. Well, obviously, EATING is what I do best, and I do that well, thank you.

But I find I am getting forgetful. Age? Maybe. Too busy? Doubtful. Not focused? Bingo! Hold your cards, we have a Bingo! Again, hold your cards, we have a Bingo!

I am the least focused person I know. Example, just today. I go to pay for something today at the store and you have to put your card in with the chip to pay for it. So I wait…..and I wait…. then I ask the lady, “Does this machine not have a chip and I have to swipe it?”. She says, “No, it has the chip”. So I wait. Bonnie leans over and tells me, “You put the card in backwards.” As she always says, I’m not “in the moment”.

Then I go to the car and as I head for the door, I think, “Why is Bonnie driving?”. Well, she wasn’t, I was, but I apparently was heading for the passenger door. Forgetful. Not in the moment. Unfocused.

I have lived in the Shenango Valley for 55 of my 61 years. I walk in Buhl Park anywhere from 3-5 times a week. I love that park. But like today, I go to head to my car and Bonnie is going a different direction. I realize that I am headed for the wrong parking lot. I quickly catch up to her and pretend nothing happened.

Have you ever driven somewhere and as you’re driving, think, “I don’t know where I am or where I am going”? I’m not talking driving through Moscow, but your town, your county, places you’ve traveled your whole life. I have to focus on where I’m going.

Now I’m not really worried about this as I’ve been this way most of my life. I remember as a teenager driving home from Canfield, Ohio toward my home in Sharon, PA. I’m thinking, “take 11 South”, so I go. And I go. And I go. And I’m thinking, “I don’t remember it being this long”. My buddy Chuck was with me and I say, “are we going the right way”? He tells me that we are. So I drive. I saw a sign that said “Airport 12 miles”. I’m thinking I took a wrong turn and am heading toward Vienna, Ohio airport. It wasn’t until I saw the sign saying “Welcome to West Virginia”, I realized I needed 11 North, and the airport I was 12 miles from was Pittsburgh, PA, not Vienna, Ohio. I stop at a gas station for directions and watch two guys lifting their engine out of their truck with a two by four. West Virginia.

Yeah, that’s me. Unfocused.

Praying is hard for me. As I’m a preacher, that’s not good! I’ll be praying and in the middle say “Is that coffee I smell? Gee, what will I eat for breakfast? Did the Yankees win last night?”.  Then I try hard to go back, and start thinking about the day, the night, the anything, and I’ve spent 10 minutes praying, and the only one prayed for is my dog because he’s sitting in front of me. It’s work.

I start conversations and never finish them. Ben says, “What?”. I ask him what he’s talking about. He said, “You started a sentence and never finished it”. I tell him, “Be quiet and watch the game”. Then I realize he turned the channel and he’s watching SportsCenter now. Unfocused.

So, I attempt to be focused. It’s not easy for me. Maybe for you that is reading this, maybe you can’t relate, particularly if you’re a female. But fortunately for this country of ours, the draft ended and I didn’t have to go to the military. Because, it would be quite possible I would end up wandering into a Vietnamese village asking if this was West Virginia.

 

P.S. I had to edit this blog. I said I walked 3-5 times a day in the park. I wish! It’s 3-5 times a week, so I changed it because, Hey look! A squirrel.

 

273.6/257.2

War (What is it Good For?)
November 12, 2016

img_4610Well hasn’t this election been crazy? The campaigning seemed longer than most wars. I’m particularly glad that the advertisements are off the television. I’m glad we’re moving on with life………oh wait.

People decided they didn’t like the democratic process, so, as the Doobie Brothers put it, they’re “taking it to the streets”. Riots. Damaging cars and stores. Because. They. Lost. The. Election. Think about that for a moment.

They’re not rioting because the poor aren’t being fed, the veterans can’t get services, the homeless are sleeping on the street. It’s because. They. Lost. The. Election.

I got to admit, I never cried when the candidate I wanted didn’t win. I remember though, being 12 and crying when Bobby Kennedy was assassinated.  I had great hope for him. But I mourned a death, not a lost election. OK, I’m old, so humor me and answer me this question?

What the heck is wrong with this generation? Cornell University had a “cry in”. Seriously, a “cry in”. Students who couldn’t handle that Hillary lost, all met together and cried. Now wait, there’s more. The school gave them chalk so they could write their feelings on the sidewalks. I’m talking COLLEGE kids, not elementary school kids who had their crush move to another school, but this is college age students.

So a couple schools made tests “optional” because how distraught the students were that their candidate lost. Seriously. The phrase “Nutty Professor” is making more and more sense. What is wrong with these kids? But its not just the kids.

Adults, on Twitter, hoping someone would assassinate Trump. A black woman tweeted about how a “brother ought to take one for the team” and kill Trump. This is the tolerant, kind hearted, liberal people who feel Trump is going to “destroy the country” while they are burning buildings and cars? Does anyone see the absurdity of all that?

When I was a teen, I got involved in a campaign to have a Lt. Kelly be released from going to trial. His crime was during the Viet Nam war, he killed innocent people because of orders given to him. He did kill them, no doubt. But he was under order to. I started a petition in high school, got hundreds of signatures to release him and to arrest the commanding officers who ordered this. My teachers thought I was crazy, and my friends were stumped why I, a long haired hippie, would support a soldier instead of being against the war. I just felt it was the right thing to do. I sent it to President Nixon. I never heard anything, he must of been busy. Did you know he was a Quaker? Quakers are against war of any kind. I guess we can say he wasn’t a very good Quaker.

I hated the war. It was long already, but back in 1973, it was winding down. Nixon ended the war and the draft. I don’t care about Watergate. He ended the draft. Thank you “Tricky Dick”.

The war made no sense. (I say this with the realization that some wars do make sense). I knew people that came back in a box. People came back horribly addicted. Some people came back with mental problems as well as physical issues  because of “Agent Orange”, a chemical we used that ended up hurting our soldiers.

I was 18, not ready to run through the jungles of Viet Nam or Cambodia and try not to die. I couldn’t imagine how different I would have been if I went. For those who went, I salute you. You are better men than me. But as Billy Joel said in his liner notes for “Goodnight Saigon”, a terrific song of the fear and horror of Viet Nam, “To those of you that didn’t go to Viet Nam, you didn’t miss anything”.

But I didn’t loot or riot. I didn’t want to kill the president. I didn’t want to go, though. I wanted to stay home and listen to the George Harrison, Moody Blues and Dylan. Heck if Muhammed Ali could avoid the war, I could (although he went to jail for awhile). To this day I don’t know if I’d had gone or went to Canada like all the liberal Hollywood liars said they’d go if Trump won, but are still here. I honestly was a scared kid who didn’t want to die.

So, yes, I was young once. And as far as I remember, I was against a lot of things, but I never rioted to make a point. I guess my parents were better parents than I thought. I was raised better than these college kids, I guess. Values do that.

 

273.6/258.4

Thanks For The Memories
March 24, 2016

192,585 miles.

Bought in 2005, my Dodge Caravan finally had to be taken down. It was a great van, bought it new and probably is the only car I bought new and paid off during my married years. A lot of family history was in that van. It was more like a covered truck than a van.

It had 192,585 miles on it. It had the original motor and original transmission. And it’s a Dodge, so you know how amazing this van was. We had the van checked at 40,000 miles and they told us that this transmission will be lucky to go another 40,000 miles. They were wrong. Way wrong.

“Blue Thunder” moved my eldest boy Luke to and from Allegheny College. Actually, I think all our trips were in that van. We’d take the seats out and fill it up. In fact Bonnie’s “Allegheny Mom” sticker was still on it.

The van also moved my daughter Jojo to and from Kent State University. Again, take out the seats and load it up.

The van brought me home from Pittsburgh after my back operation. Lying down on the middle seat with my brother Bob trying to avoid all the potholes on the way home. This is Pennsylvania, remember, land of taxes and potholes (but not necessarily in that order).

The van was part of the funeral procession for Bonnie’s mom, Nadine.

The van took us to and from church every Sunday. Drove us to Parkside Church to hear Alistair Begg preach, or go to the Pastor’s Conferences.

It drove us to North Carolina.

It drove us to the airport on numerous occasions for flights to California.

It drove us to Buhl Park so Bonnie and I could take our walks.

It took us to concerts, Browns games, Yankee games, and Cavs games. It took us to see the Scrappers play, as well as kid’s softball, soccer, and baseball games.

It caused Bonnie to be very angry at me because she got pulled over by the police because the registration had expired. I think she is over this, however, it’s mentioned annually, sort of like a holiday.

The kids needed furniture moved. Blue Thunder to the rescue.

The kids needed to borrow it for whatever reason. It was always there. But, like a human body, it began to break down. The body was eaten away by the salt from the 11 winters of western Pennsylvania. The window on the driver’s side didn’t work. The latch to the hood was broken, the air conditioner didn’t work, it needed an exhaust system, the horn didn’t work, and the material on the ceiling was starting to sag with age. (I said, just like a human body).

Finally, today, the decision was made to put the old girl down. So much history, and although I don’t get attached to material things, it’s kind of sad to me.

Not even for all the times I used it and the stories mentioned above, but it was a part of me. Not like a human or a pet, but I loved having the windows down and blaring Dylan out the window. I didn’t need or want a fancy car because I’m not a fancy guy. I just wanted something reliable and faithful. And it was each of those.

So Blue Thunder, thanks for all the great times. Thanks for all the times we counted on you and you didn’t let us down.

Dang, thanks for all the memories.

I hope my Honda does just as well.

Already Gone
March 1, 2016

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Not trying to copy Bob Dylan (as if I could do it justice), but time is ridiculously quick. As I type this, it’s the end of February, and I can’t believe it’s gone, even with an extra day.

I remember my dad used to tell me how fast it goes as you get older. And now February 2016 is gone.

It doesn’t seem long ago it was New Years Eve 2000, and we all feared the planes would fall from the sky, the computers would crash, we’d have no food, not water, no gasoline. And here we are 16 years later.

It’s funny how things go as time passes. I’m not going to have the body that my head said I could have when I gained weight back 30 years ago. Still overweight, but realizing that I won’t have the “beach body” I thought I’d have. It’s that realization that is overwhelming now. I can probably lose some weight, diet the right way and exercise, pray that God gives me the strength to do that. But “beach body”? Nah. Time went too fast.

I’ll never get good at the guitar. I’ve had a guitar for 15-20 years. Oh, I can pick a few songs, but not where I can look at the music and play any song. It was hard to reach some of the chords. I don’t even touch it now. I practiced some for a few years, said I’d pick it up again, but it won’t happen. Not that I’m old and going to die, but just because that desire has pretty much left me. Time went too fast.

I’ll never get Bonnie the house she deserved. We lived out in the country for 21 years, 4 acres of land. Always wanted to get her a wrap around porch. Put a rocking chair out there, sit back and drink coffee in the evening watching the sunset, and strum my guitar. Sort of like Andy Taylor in Mayberry. I live in the city now. That porch isn’t going to be built out in the country. Time went too fast.

I’ll never get to England. Always wanted to walk Abbey Road, check out where Apple Studios was, visit the Cavern, go to Liverpool. Oh, and some other non-Beatle things are there I hear. But I’m not going to spend money on that now. Time went too fast.

I’ll never learn Italian. Bought an Italian course, never kept up with it. It’s a hard thing to learn a second language. At least for me it is. It’s too much work for now, and seriously, what’s the point?  Time went too fast.

I don’t want this to sound depressing or “woe is me”, like I’m old and ready to die, because I’m not. I suppose that if I desire, I can get back with the guitar or learn Italian. The key is “if I so desire”. The beach body and house with a wrap around porch in the country just ain’t going to happen. But see, it’s like John Lennon sang, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

Dylan is right on with this. Time flies, we grow old, our views change, and nothing stays the same. But like he says, “you better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone. Oh the times they are a changing”. Everything changes. But here’s the good news.

I am writing blogs. I am studying the Scriptures more than I ever have. I’m mentoring young guys at the church. I know God better than I ever have. I’ve learned how to pray, not how a book tells me to pray, but how God tells me to pray.

I play with my grand kids and spend more time with Bonnie and my kids. I enjoy the sunset and sunrise. I’ve rediscovered Buhl Park. I stop and smell the roses. I don’t drink, smoke cigarettes or pot. I remember “the night before”. I have deeper relationships with friends that are deeper than any I’ve ever had. I have a love for my wife that can’t compare to what it was 30 years ago or with any other type of love I’ve felt. Before I used to care what people thought of me. Today, it doesn’t matter.

I’ve learned to not sweat the small stuff and discovered that most everything is small stuff. I don’t worry like I used to. I have learned to keep expectations low on people and high on God. I’ve learned to lean on Christ more and me less.

Actually, life is good right now. The past is the past and it’s already gone. But today? Man, I really am digging it. And tomorrow? Can’t wait……..but let’s not go so fast!

 

 

Give Peace A Chance
February 12, 2016

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Why is everyone so angry? When I watch TV, they say, “America is angry”. The debates are angry, the moderators are angry, and apparently, the voters are angry. Why so much anger?

When I was a young lad, let’s go back 50 years, it was 1966. We were in the midst of a horrible war in Cambodia and Viet Nam. There were racial tensions, there were gang fights, there were fears. Today the racial tensions are more severe, the gangs are REAL gangs, and there are fears.

Fear of not having a job, fear of ISIS, fear of “the other guy”, fear of being taken advantage of, fear of the unknown. I remember people protesting the war.  JFK was killed, fear of Russia dropping nukes on us. I remember in grade school having “tests” where an air raid siren would go off, and we’d hide under our desks. Fear.

They gave us dog tags in school so that if there was an attack, they would be able to identify us when our bodies were charred like overcooked burgers. Want to talk about PTSD? Fear.

Everyone is angry because they are scared. Those on one side say that the presidential race will determine if we go to socialism which will lead to communism. They say that “those people” don’t like the United States. They made deals with Iran and they will nuke us when they make their atomic bombs.

The other side says we’re in the midst of global warming. Everything will melt, we’ll all die. They say that “those people” hate everyone different than them. They want the rich to succeed and the poor to stay poor. They want you to remain quiet and they hate minorities.

Fear. Nothing divides us more than fear. Nothing makes us angry more than fear.

The 12th of this month (today in some parts of the world) is Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. I remember he used to be a hero. We had the day off of school, that and the 22nd for George Washington. They now combine all the presidents into one, this year celebrated on the 15th.

Lincoln used to be a hero. So did Washington. Jefferson. Columbus. Franklin. But because of fear, which produces anger, people start slamming these men, stating they were either murderers, rapists, or slave owners.  There’s a great divide in this country. We have a separation. Just like “those in charge” want it.

Can we decide not to be fearful? Not to be angry? Can we choose to love people? Maybe I’m just an old hippie, but can’t we look past the differences and look for what we all have in common.

My dear friend Rich is my former boss. He’s liberal, I’m conservative. He’s Jewish, I’m Christian. He’s a Steeler fan, I’m a Browns fan. There are only three things we have in common. The Yankees, the Beatles (he saw them at Shea Stadium), and a common respect.

I just talked with him tonight as he lives on the other side of Pennsylvania. He’s a good man with a lovely family. We continue to laugh and love on each other, with a genuine concern for each other and their family. We talked tonight about how great it would be to go on the road together and to maybe bring a little peace into the world. It’s a nice thought.

Are we ready for peace? Are we ready to not get angry? Are we ready to forgive and come to the point where we feel we are owed nothing? If we are, then we are ready to give up fear.

2 Timothy 1:7 “For God has not given us the spirit of fear but of power and of love and a sound mind.”

How about I start. If you are Christian, Jew, Muslim, gay, straight, Republican, Democrat, atheist, transgender, male, female, tall, short, skinny, tall, then I choose to love you. We will have differences and that’s ok. But how about we do what John Lennon said. “All we are saying is give peace a chance”.

Winter
January 7, 2016

Well, week one into 2016 and winter has arrived. I’m ok with that, as apparently, I’m a northern kind of guy.

Christmas Eve and Day was like 60 degrees, which is kind of nice. See, I like cold and cool weather. So 60 is cool and lovely. I guess that at my age, I’m over a white Christmas. If it happens, cool, if not, I’m very ok with it.

We’ve had just one snow, less than an inch. I find I like snow also. Not a “Oh boy, it’s snowing”, but more like a “oh, it snowed”. I’m learning to adjust to life. So let’s throw a bit of Bob Dylan in here, which is to no one who knows me surprise.

This song I discovered is called “It’s Not Dark Yet” off his “Time Out Of Mind” CD (in case you want to buy it……). Fascinating song as I am approaching the winter of my life. I’ve learned to accept things that are. There are a few things this song says, and I’ll quote it without permission and hopefully not infringe on copyright laws.

I have come to the conclusion that western Pennsylvania, maybe where I’m at in Sharon or somewhere near by, is where I’m supposed to be. This is where God has me. This is where God wants me. I had wanted to move to California with the kids, but they moved home. I had wanted to travel, but that desire has left me, also. If I travel, I want to do it as a family. I’ve also discovered that I love it here. Maybe that’s the Lord helping me, but I do. My desire is to live where my kids and grandkids will live. I have a friend Bill Jones who picked up and moved with his wife to eastern Pennsylvania because it was between where his two kids lived. I get that.

I never understood why Paul McCartney always dreaded his “Beatles” years after they broke up. He rarely sang Beatles songs, mainly doing his solo work. I’ve noticed as Paul’s aged that he has embraced that the Beatles was a part of who he was, but not who he was. Now he does a nice mix of both in concert, so I’m told.

I’ve found that out about me. I hated the high school years. I think that’s why I drank so much in high school. Started drinking at 13, just hated Sharon. Moved to Florida twice, and came back to the area and when I got married we bought a house in West Middlesex. Not Sharon. As I’ve aged, I’ve noticed that I’m embracing my high school years as a part of who I was, but not who I was, just like McCartney. It was a part of who I am, but does not define me as who I am.

I was popular in school, but it didn’t satisfy me. I look back on the drama of high school and some of the crazy things I did and I should be dead. But God spared me and here I am. Friends who betrayed me, friends I betrayed, relationships that ruined me and relationships I ruined, poor decisions that I made. This brings me back to Dylan.

Always was a Dylan fan. He spoke for my generation, but it wasn’t until lately I’ve encountered some of the songs he did, especially off the Bootleg Series 1-12, that really speak to great depth in my life. Songs that I go, “Yeah, that’s true” or “yeah, I believe(d) that”. As I’ve turned 60, it’s becoming clearer to me that I have become older and wiser. Things don’t bother me like they used to, (well, except the Browns, but I’ve been working on that for years), and I really don’t care what people think. I believe if I had that attitude in high school I would have enjoyed it more. But back to Dylan.

The whole song “It’s Not Dark Yet” is so good and speaks so much to who I am. The one verse goes:                “I was born here and I’ll die here, against my will. I know it looks like I’m moving, but I’m standing still. Every nerve in my body is so naked and numb. I can’t even remember what it was I came here to get away from. I don’t even hear the murmur of a prayer. It’s not dark yet. But it’s getting there.”

I guess as I’m in the autumn of life, late October I’d say, that’s where I’m at. I’m in Sharon, at first against my will but now my will is lining up with God’s. I’ll probably die here. I’m ok with all of that. Heck, I got cemetery plots here.

This is where I’m to be. I like it here. Everything I need and want is here. My wife, my kids and their spouses and their kids, all here. I’m a blessed man. I don’t need a vacation. My life is a vacation. It was 12 degrees this morning and I walked in the Park. Crazy? Nah, enjoying home.

My home isn’t gorgeous or in the greatest neighborhood. I’m not a “fixer upper” kind of fella, so things need done. I get to things eventually, although I’d rather pay someone to fix things because, hey, that’s why we work, don’t we? Ain’t got a whole lot of money (“but I’m so in love with you honey”)But I love where I live. I do. I’m home. People say you can’t go home. You can, but it’s not the same. It’s different only if you’ve changed.

I absolutely have only one regret. I wish I’d married Bonnie earlier in life instead of 30 so I’d be around for the grandkids longer, but who knows? God’s timing is perfect.

Winter is here. It doesn’t last long. I’ve embraced it. Life is very good, and I’m realistic about life and the outcome. It’s Not Dark Yet. But it’s getting there.

When I was 19
April 13, 2012

When I was 19, you either could make a living and raise a family by working in the steel mill, go to college, or join the military. (Vietnam had just ended).

When I was 19, we got into fights without weapons, just fists. Nobody shot anyone, stabbed anyone, or bludgeoned anyone.

When I was 19, it was a THRILL to see your favorite rock band on television. There weren’t music videos. (MTV didn’t come around until I was 26!)

When I was 19, FM radio just started to become popular. It surpassed AM radio in my 20’s.

When I was 19, you could legally drink beer (although it was 3.2 % alcohol) in Ohio, but not Pennsylvania.

When I was 19, I bought my first car, a 1964 Lincoln Continental for $400. (“I’m the friendly stranger in the black sedan, won’t you hop inside my car?”)

When I was 19, I thought my parents would live forever, never realizing that my mother would die just 12 years later.

When I was 19, I didn’t know that Bonnie Bateman existed, let alone that I’d marry her 10 years later.

When I was 19, my father was stupid and I knew everything.

When I was 19, I had hair. LONG hair down to my shoulders and parted down the middle.

When I was 19, I was drinking heavily and smoking pot. I was not a happy hippie.

When I was 19, I was a democrat and liberal.

When I was 19, I saw the play “Jesus Christ Superstar” and thought it was biblical.

When I was 19, the Yankees had won only 20 World Series titles.

When I was 19, I prayed the Beatles would get back together.

When I was 19, I knew everything about women.

When I was 19, $2.00 gave me a half tank of gas and $5.00 filled it up….even the Lincoln.

When I was 19, I thought that if Carly Simon met me, she’d divorce James Taylor for me.

When I was 19, I viewed Cat Steven’s “Father and Son” from the Son’s perspective.

When I was 19, I was going to change the world.

When I was 19, I never thought I’d live to be this old.