A CERTAIN AGE, THEN POOF. THAT’S IT?

“As a culture, we tend to let people disappear at a certain age,” said Dustin Hoffman.

What’s that feeling you get when you hear someone start with, “As a culture . . . ?”

They’re talking about something you ought to know, or it’s something you don’t know and feel suspicious about.

I side with the last one since I’m a culture fan.

Do we tend to let people disappear? That’s some high drama in a time of people disappearing.

While I’ve never walked down a red carpet anywhere for anything, I’d feel left out if it had been a regular part of my year.

 

Red carpet at  Cannes? Check.

Red carpet at Oscars? Check.

 

Then it’s all over and you never see another red carpet with stylists and photographers capturing your inner beauty and mystery.

You make due with a red rug at the front door, but it’s not quite the same.

You don’t disappear when you aren’t invited to appear. There’s a subtle difference.

Once you were attention-worthy, then you weren’t.

I remember seeing Christian Slater in a movie doing his impression of a high Jack Nicholson and calling it acting.

I don’t remember the movie, but he was pretty good.

Why do I remember his name when I didn’t see him in anything else?

He didn’t disappear anymore than the actors who played Johnny Cash and Elvis and Ray Charles and Freddie Mercury disappeared into their next roles.

This ought to explain it:

 

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.”

 

Sports Celebrities Get A Break

Can you imagine showing up where everyone knows your name?

The closest I’ve been is going on a double date where the other guy was a kingpin.

Two couples walked into a place and people stood up from their table and gave us their chairs.

They knew who he was, I was clueless. But still cool as hell.

It was less cool when the table talk turned funny with, “I told him he’d better do his job or he might find himself in a fifty-five gallon oil drum.”

Ha? Ha? Or, YIKES.

 

The saddest fade for me, a former high school athlete and current fitness fan, are sports guys who leave early with injuries.

One second they are among the best players in the world, the next they’re stretched out on the turf.

The first guy I remember cheating us out of a greater career was NFL running back Gale Sayers with the Chicago Bears.

Around the same time Sayers began his run, Sandy Koufax hung it up.

At a certain age, one guy’s knees were shot, the other had a bad elbow.

One guy quit at thirty, the other at twenty-nine.

Both are the youngest members voted into their respective halls of fame.

Did they miss being The Man? The greatest of their generation?

Since they were so young when their careers ended, they didn’t disappear.

As a culture, a sports culture, the only relevant question is, “What have you done lately?”

If you’re not scoring touchdowns, or pitching no-hitters, who are you?

It’s not fair.

 

Leaving The Bright Lights Behind

Stepping away from a public life can’t be easy.

No appointments, no consults, no interviews, none of the rush that used to get the old blood pumping.

You’re still the same person, but everyone treats you gently, exaggerating manners so you know how important you are to them.

You hear “Sir” and “Ma’am” and wonder who they’re talking to?

It’s you at a certain age.

For sports guys the clock is always ticking faster at the end. One more inning, one more quarter, one more win.

Time is not on their side.

Celebrities also have a clock, a slower clock.

Some stay at the top of their game into their sixties, seventies, and eighties.

The movie magic changes every year.

For celebrity politicians the later years are when they’re just getting started.

After a surprise election, or important appointment, some of the old guard find themselves on shows and panels and invited to important events.

Their voices grow in importance as they introduce a new culture into everyday American life.

Many have worn their act thin through repeat performances of:

 

“I’m outraged.”

“I’m aghast.”

“I’ve been lied to.”

“My trust is broken.”

 

H.L. Mencken says:

The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.

 

Be sure and check the mirror to see if you’re still here.

If you are, good work.

If you are, but feel a little disappointed in things? Write a blog, brother.

 

PS: People disappear at a certain age?

PSS: Or are they’re just tired of shoveling shit and can’t look themselves in the face anymore?

Snap out of it before you hop into that barrel on your own.