Time To Plan The Rockin' R'Old Age Home

László

Only Human
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OK. I have just learned that being a musician, having guitars, and wearing cool shoes will not, repeat not, prolong youth or slow the aging process.

I saw a picture of myself. It was a shock. The back of my head, which was full of abundant hair long after my friends lost theirs, is now a rather seedy-looking, disorganized, empty lot lot sprouting the occasional weed, The once defined jawline has disintegrated into a disgusting gorgle of something that causes the whole front of my face to be attached directly to my chest without any sign of a neck!

Everything that I could once identify as my nose, eyes and other features are now like melted silly putty.

This is extremely embarrassing. I was wondering how it is that suddenly I could walk down the street, and not be recognized, asked for autographs, and be hit on by strange women. Or even regular women. Or even grandmas...Now I know.

I think I'd better have a plan. A rock and roll old age home. Where geezers spend the few moments they can stand up without falling over playing their guitars loudly (so they can hear them) and can get together with friends who share their interests. Where the sight of a wheeled walker with an attachment to hold the guitar wouldn't be all that unusual.

Where a drool cup can also serve as a place to store picks.

Where a drummer can have his drum rack on wheels. Even though he can't lift the sticks, he can still use it as a walker. And salvage some of his coolness.

Where wheeled guitar cabs are also attached to chairs with wheels.

Where the phrase, "That Old Time Rock And Roll" has added significance.

I'm ready to check in now. Time has come today.
 
Funny enough, This sounds like a the kind of place I want to be when my time comes. I am sure we all would like to go to a place just like that. I am not sure if this place exists yet, but maybe this would be a great business model to look into!! My question would be what kind of catchy name would we call it? "GEEZER ROCK n chair" :biggrin: My biggest fear is going to a place where I can't play my guitar and act out!
 
Les....first of all, this is due to the fact that you are what.....800 years old or so? As a Highlander, you have avoided most of the ramifications of the aging process....but, it does catch up to you...and as you are seeing, once it begins....it accelerates dramatically.

What happens is as follows....when you become too decrepit to function anymore....you contact Roger Waters and beg for admission to the "Fletcher Memorial Home". they have added a branch so that not only despots and malevolent rulers are allowed in...but aging rockers who are "too old to rock and roll, but too young to die" are granted special privileges.

PS..Skip the ad...watch the video, and check out the Dave Gilmour solo at 2:20!!!! I love this album, even though it's considered more of a Roger Waters solo, than a true Pink Floyd......

 
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How is something so essential, funny? You kids get the hell off of my lawn!! Where's my state fair spoon? I need a nap. :goodnight:

Les, the good new is, I, too, have all of my hair...even if it will soon be 100% white. Grey/white hair looks rockin' with black tee shirts and jeans.:rock: Just ask the granny-pit full of retro-hotties that dance at our gigs. The only bad part is playing until 1am and getting home at 3am...which is 4 hours past my bedtime.:biggrin:

Save me a villa at the Rockin' Wrinkle Ranch.
 
A rock and roll old age home. Where geezers spend the few moments they can stand up without falling over playing their guitars loudly (so they can hear them) and can get together with friends who share their interests. Where the sight of a wheeled walker with an attachment to hold the guitar wouldn't be all that unusual.

From what I have heard...you are describing some of those existing "Rock fantasy camps" where rich guys who have passed their prime can pretend that they are actually in a real band, playing with real rock stars who have incredible patience and the ability to stifle their hysterical laughter. In between lessons and stage time, the participants have to clean out their diapers, and adjust their hearing aides. :laugh:
 
From what I have heard...you are describing some of those existing "Rock fantasy camps" where rich guys who have passed their prime can pretend that they are actually in a real band, playing with real rock stars who have incredible patience and the ability to stifle their hysterical laughter. In between lessons and stage time, the participants have to clean out their diapers, and adjust their hearing aides. :laugh:

Reminds me of a true story.

When my kids were growing up, we used to spend a week each summer at the University of Michigan's alumni summer camp, located on a beautiful lake near Traverse City, Michigan (Walloon Lake, where Hemingway spent his summers, his cabin is nearby). It's an all-ages camp, and UM alumni, their kids, and faculty can spend a week there. Great place, and the waiting list is always years long.

So I was sitting on the porch in front of the dining hall, taking in the sun and the breeze off the lake, reading the newspaper one morning after breakfast, and next to me was a guy who looked to be in his 80s.

Suddenly he says to me, "Do I smell?"

We're outdoors, right? So I say, "No, I don't smell anything except the pines. Why?"

He says, "I am an MD surgeon. I was a professor at the Medical School at UM for 30 years, and was also on staff at the University Hospital. Today I am sitting here in a diaper, because I can't control my bladder any more, I can't feel a thing. Sometimes I smell. I just don't want to offend people."

I felt so badly for this proud old fella. Soon enough, my friends, soon enough...
 
Reminds me of a true story.

When my kids were growing up, we used to spend a week each summer at the University of Michigan's alumni summer camp, located on a beautiful lake near Traverse City, Michigan (Walloon Lake, where Hemingway spent his summers, his cabin is nearby). It's an all-ages camp, and UM alumni, their kids, and faculty can spend a week there. Great place, and the waiting list is always years long.

So I was sitting on the porch in front of the dining hall, taking in the sun and the breeze off the lake, reading the newspaper one morning after breakfast, and next to me was a guy who looked to be in his 80s.

Suddenly he says to me, "Do I smell?"

We're outdoors, right? So I say, "No, I don't smell anything except the pines. Why?"

He says, "I am an MD surgeon. I was a professor at the Medical School at UM for 30 years, and was also on staff at the University Hospital. Today I am sitting here in a diaper, because I can't control my bladder any more, I can't feel a thing. Sometimes I smell. I just don't want to offend people."

I felt so badly for this proud old fella. Soon enough, my friends, soon enough...

A very poignant anecdote.

To lighten it up a bit.....

Here is one from the journals of Boswell.....

Dr. Samuel Johnson, encounters a prim and proper lady.

She comes over to him....takes a whiff, and says loudly, "Sir...you smell!"

His scholorly response...."M'aam....you smell. I stink!"
 
This old rockers home doesn't seem like such a bad place having looked at the brochure....

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Can you still do this?

keith_richards.jpg


If so, you're doin' just fine...


Jamie
 
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You guys are all wrong. Keef is NOT posturing in the photo above...and he's not doing contortioned rock moves.

In reality, at his age, and after all he's been through...this is exactly how he walks around all the time!
 
I couldn't do that 40 years ago, so...no. LOL!

Yeah! You beat me to it! I was thinking 'Man, I couldn't do that when I was twenty!'

Lloyd

P.S. --- Check it out. He's got the reversed/Peter Green thing going on that humbucker. Maybe he's trying to hear the difference at stage level.
 
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I'd love to see something more like a rock and roll independent living community, with a cadre of "groupies" on-call in the office to assist with any issues that might arise. Maybe a staff of "roadies" that handle grounds repairs and what not.

This is gonna be awesome!!! :rock: :cheers:
 
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