I was in a small bar waiting for the sensational performance of a long time band.  They would come to play the music of my youth.  In my mind, these musicians must already be in their 70s if not 80s since I am already in my late 50s.  I ordered coffee to whiz my patience.  I was also looking on a window to catch a glimpse at the players.

A few seconds later, I saw a couple of slow moving personalities, white crop of hair, slim, shoulders stooping, bones on wrinkled skin showing while their protruding bellies project age related fat.  They must be in their 90s!

I thought they were there like me to watch a grand show of musical talent.  But Lo and Behold, as they entered the bar, they immediately unwrapped carefully some boxes, closely unzipping the straps  while adjusting their thick glasses, revealing what could have been a musical instrument.  Indeed, these old craps were the musicians I, along with others ogling at the stage, were waiting for.  Their ages, their gait, their unhurried movements indicated senior citizenship and that which they would do literally could unshackle whatever it is that joined their skins and bones together.

The lights were dimmed.  The old timers moved onward the stage.  They installed the cords and toned the speaker chests, then checked the microphones.  As they all aligned on the stage, one was motioning a waiter to bring up a stool on which they could repair after a number.  The announcement came.  They greeted the audience “those who will not sing with us are suffering from dementia!”  After a calibrated laughter from the audience, the drums rolled signaling a beautifully crafted combination of rhythm and base from guitars.  The organ was tuned to a trumpet and later adjusted as piano.  The song was from Motown; the top melody almost 30 years ago.

The audience got their adrenaline shot.  We were all singing with the singers.  Suddenly the old, creaking hags of men, who at first glance were ashen, zombieish, on the verge of withering, about to snap and get into the second layer of life in purgatory were all belting out melodies as if youth has never departed their souls!  They, and we in the audience, were all young once again.  In my case, I felt I was back in my elementary days.  The way they sing those olden songs transported all of us, in time machine fashion, back to those halcyon days of yore.

I went home satisfied, feeling youthful, dreamy eyed and full of vivacity and exuberance.  For a while, I was in a euphoric state.  Those old timers restored the beauty of time notwithstanding the fact that time has almost ruined their looks.  But their music remained untouched.

Back in my study, as I clicked the mouse of my computer to check what the latest news were, something popped out.  Old timers in film industry were all receiving recognition for their artistic craft.  Almost all awardees of Oscars(2014) came from the ranks of the oldies.

Indeed, the old timers have never passed their prime yet.  It is in senior years that one achieves what perfection is in this lifetime.  Cheers to ancient persons as well, they deserve the adulation in this world!

(Next time I see an old man, struggling to cross the street or perhaps crawling on some pedestrian lanes, I would surely be reminded of the great crooner who made a bunch of us, avid listeners, swoon to the beat of our juvenile years.  High respect I give for them with some genuflections at that.)


About vjtesoro

A perpetual student of Corrections

Posted on February 24, 2014, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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