Chapter 27: Are you the same person you were as an adolescent, or very different?
Originally written June 22, 2021
“Oh, how I long to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though four score and three years have flitted since then
But they bring sweet reflections, as every young joy should
That merry hearted boys make the best of old men”
(From “Bard of Armagh” as sung by Tommy Makem & The Clancy Brothers)
One day in the early 1970s I was walking in Casa Solana with my brother Jack and another friend were walking in Casa Solana along Alamo Drive near Camino de Las Crucitas. I believe my brother was living in that neighborhood with our Mom, grandmother and sister at the time.
This pickup truck passed us and made a turn. In the bed of the truck were a couple of little boys. (Seatbelts weren’t as universal back then. Just stick the kids in the back of the truck...)
At the same moment Jack and I realized that the smallest kid in the back of the truck looked exactly like Jack did when he was that age. But before either of us could say “wow,” the kid looked at us and deliberately stuck out his tongue.
Now granted, this bizarre incident occurred during the peak of my psychedelic years (see previous chapter). But both Jack and I, plus our friend, saw it. It seemed like some kind message from the past, as if Jack’s childhood was mocking what we’d become.
Or something.
I’ve never had a visit from my past self like that. Still not sure why little Stevie wasn’t in the back of that truck.
And I still wonder if he also would have stuck out his tongue at us.
Yes, I have grown and matured, got educated, experienced marriage, parenthood, divorce, grandparenthood, a lengthy career. But in my heart I still am the little boy who loved going to pro wrestling matches at Stockyards Coliseum, making Rat Fink models, munching popcorn at monster movies and obsessing over rock ’n’ roll.
I don’t literally follow wrestling or make models anymore. And I’d rather see hardboiled noir movies than werewolf flicks these days — though I still have a soft spot for all of that stuff that warped my world view.
I love seeing the low-brow imagery of masked luchadores or Frankenstein or Big Daddy Roth creatures or creepy ventriloquist dummies pop up in art and culture.
And I’m not part of the modern trend to denounce circus clowns as “creepy.” From Bozo to Pennywise, I love ‘em!
(Quick video break: A little music to sniff airplane glue by)
But I still obsess over rock ’n’ roll, which, in My Universe includes Cab Calloway, Buck Owens, John Coltrane, Blind Willie McTell, The Dubliners, Fela Kuti and, when I’m in the mood, Dean Martin.
I believe my wild wide tastes in music – which only expand as I grow older -- are a direct result of my childhood infatuation with AM radio, which, in the early to mid 1960s was a glorious mishmash of rock, soul, country, “easy listening” and a little jazz.
I used to take for granted hearing The Animals, The Four Tops, Frank Sinatra, George Jones and maybe some Cannonball Adderley, or “Love is Blue,” one after another on WKY radio in Oklahoma City.
But beyond music and cultural aesthetics I’ve kept many other outlooks and attitudes from my teenage and pre-teen years. Like then, I still have a large number of casual friends but a very small circle of close friends.
Back when I was working and I’d walk to lunch or someplace with co-workers or other friends, I’d often be greeted by several people — old high-school friends, music people, politicians, government workers I’d covered as a reporter, people I’ve known from various eras and aspects of my life. More than once a person I was walking with would comment something like, “Damn you know a lot of people. You ought to run for mayor.”
Don’t worry. This is not an announcement.
For the record, despite my involvement in covering politics as a journalist, the thought of holding some public office never has appealed to me. And even less so since I retired. One of the huge benefits of leaving my job was not having to go to government meetings. Why would I want to be in a position where I’d have to go to more? It’s probably safe to say that I’ve got a love/hate relationship with politics.
When I was a kid, I had a lot of trust in people. I tended to take them at their word. That’s still my tendency. I still want to trust people to tell me the truth — though as a journalist, I had to teach myself to be more skeptical of cops, politicians, captains of industry and others I interviewed.
As was the case during my adolescence, I need a certain amount of solitude. I don’t think I’ve ever been anti-social, but I do need my time by myself.
I’ve lived alone now for a big chunk of my life. But only rarely do I feel lonesome. As a kid I lived with my family, sharing a room with my brother, and had lots of neighborhood pals. So I didn’t get that much solitude.
But I greatly valued the times I was alone, painting my Weird-oh models reading or quietly contemplating what the next Beatles album would sound like or who would be on the next wrestling card at Stockyards Coliseum or what might be featured in the next Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine.
So yes, I’ve changed.
But that weird Okie kid is still inside me.
XXX
Forget not the bold Phelim Brady
So good to see those faces! I was one of your biggest fans. I'm not sure any of us really changes, absent some trauma, illness, or other defining event. So, yeah, I'm still that Okie kid, too.