BOOMER ON

YOU KNOW THE SAME FRIENDS AND LIKE THE SAME PLACES

NOT HEAVEN, ONLY LOOKS LIKE HEAVEN
(courtesy www.mcmenamins.com)

Ed, one of the most transcendent of Portland baby boomers, carried the room at a local bar.

He whipped out a micro-laptop the way Elvis played guitar and he spun a web connecting the past, present, and future in his perfect boomer business style.

The beer in his pint was one of a kind, a mix of PBR and IPA. He loved the way it sounded. Others ordered it with his same cadence.

The middle aged lady with the neck tats and a PhD smiled her approval.

He bet the bartender that a Jeopardy host’s daughter was an Olympic gold medalist and won a free beer.

Even the pained looking woman with a mixed drink in a beer joint laughed.

Ed checked his watch and took off his shirt, showing his gym-cred in a smedium black T . He had his night timed to the half-minute.

He talked about the thirty two year old man he once knew in NW Portland who took his eighteen year old girlfriends to their senior proms in style.

Everyone said, “ewwwwww,” and cringed appropriately.

Like the ‘early bird special’ where he uses his fake-senior ID, happy hour came to a close and Ed walked home.

There were the potted plants he needs to put in the ground, the paint he needs to scrape.

Inside, his wife stuffed lamb chops and his dog jumped on his leg.

After dinner Ed went to his work room. In there he was just Ed.

Ed and a guitar.