Where Geezers Gather

        I currently live in the border-town community of Laughlin, NV/Bullhead City, AZ. Laughlin's where all the sizzle is. Casinos, flashing lights-- you know the tableau. One of those places that bills itself as "What Vegas used to be." (If that's such a good thing, why isn't Vegas still it?) Vegas-lite aimed heavily at an older clientele. 50's and older music dominates. Over at the Ramada Express they have a W.W.II museum. The soundtrack is pure 1940's. Head on in and you're guaranteed to see some oldster, beboping back and forth cheerily singing along with Bing Crosby or the Andrews Sisters, or humming it up with Tommy Dorsey.
        "How quaint," I would always think, perhaps somewhat derisively. I would think of how often older people get stuck with the music of their era. I'd wonder how they could stand hearing the same old thing over and over. Don't their ears get tired? Poor old guys, it's almost sad, kind of pathetic really.

A Sudden Realization

        Then the other night I'm in some fast food restaurant. Some song from the 80's comes on. When I hear a song I particularly love, I occasionally sing quietly along, or if there are too many people around, I just mouth the words. I've been doing this for a very long time... almost all the way back to the 80's. For some reason, though, this time a connection is made. Some errant little neuron misfires and the enlightening awareness of an "Aha moment" shatters my smug little world. As far as those teenagers in that fast food restaurant are concerned, I'm just as pathetic as those little old guys beboping through the Ramada. Please check your delusions of continuing coolness at the door. Tickets please, next stop Geezerville!

Caught In The Grip Of Kudzu-like Nostalgia

        I've been heavily listing toward nostalgia lately. With VCRs, cable channels such as TV LAND, whole series on DVD, and Internet radio it's possible to live my media life in retrospect. I can watch the same shows I watched as a kid, even recreating entire night's lineups. I can listen to the same music. With today's emulator technology I can even play the same video games and use the same computers.
        I've been seduced by the siren's call. I'm still watching Fantasy Island and the Love Boat. Whatta ya mean M*A*S*H went off the air? Not according to TV Guide! Music? Who needs Toby Keith when I can still have Kenny Rogers and George Jones? Conway Twitty can stick with me forever. Britney? If I want a blonde darlin' with a chest the media can obsess over Dolly's still within reach. Video Games? Forget Final Fantasy. I have emulators for every computer and game system I ever owned. While my cartridges are in storage collecting dust, I'm sitting here at my desktop still playing Asteroids and Ms. Pac-Man, thank you very much.
        Even the "new" things which appeal to me have a retro flair. Smallville? Haven't I been watching Superman since George Reeves? Enterprise? How many version of Star Trek can one person watch? Still watching James Bond 30 years later, aren't you? Yep. (But you secretly wish it was still Sean Connery, don'cha? You wish the films were smaller, less overblown, like the "good old days," huh?)

How 'Bout Just Till I Need Glasses?

        It's not that there's anything wrong with the new stuff-- even though I try to make that case. The only thing wrong with the new stuff is that it's just not the old stuff. It's just "that much" off. And that tiny bit of difference makes it scratch across my sensibilities like fingernails on a blackboard. Have you ever tried to date someone who looked like someone you loved and lost? On one level your brain is trying to make it her, but you still know it's not her, no matter how hard you try to make it so. No-one but her will ever be right, no matter how similar. After a certain point your entire life can get to be like that.
        I wonder where it ends. Have I totally slipped over to the darkside? Am I now a permanent, card carrying member of Geezerville, Population Geriatric? While I could totally eschew the old and insist I stick with the more modern... my heart isn't in it. It's pernicious. Soaking in this old media is grasping at the familiar, like being thrown a life ring in a raging sea. The comforting familiarity of one's youth becomes personally mythic. It becomes a drug you don't want to give up.
        When I'd look at those little old guys, smelling as much of nostalgia as of Brillo Cream and Old Spice, I'd always assure myself that could never happen to me. I was too hip, too smart to fall for that trap. I knew I'd make sure to stay fresh and up-to-date. Now here I am mainlining nostalgia. Giving it up feels too scary. Letting go would be too hard. Certainly rehab isn't necessary!

        Maybe just a little while longer. I can become modern anytime I want to. Really. Really.