A Poet's Life

Mona Bethke

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The definition of age…

Why is our society so obsessed with aging? Why are we defined by how many years we have been out of the womb?

I went to a Rammstein concert last night and had a most amazing time. The show was great, the music took me home for two hours (I grew up in Germany), and I chatted with some rather interesting people. A wonderful evening out, yes?

As the music began to reverberate throughout the stadium, it took me back to my younger days and I felt a biting sense of nostalgia. I began to think back on high school days and the group of friends I had that loved going to concerts as much as I did. One never grows too old for music.

This brings me to the question of why aging should change our taste in music. Why can I listen to metal when I’m 17, but it makes me a freak at 54? Does a person’s age really have to define their musical preferences? Should I be donning my polyester pants, arch support shoes, over-dyed hair, and support socks, and clambering in line with a bunch of frustrated women that still want to do Neil Diamond or Tom Jones to be defined as someone acting my age? I’m not negating either one of these very talented singers, but honestly, you get the association.

Instead, I put on my skinny jeans (because I can), my high top black Chucks (because I love Chucks), a tank top (because I love my tats), and I rode the rush out into the crowd of 20 to 30 somethings to get my groove on. I reached up to help guide the blow up boat with a band member in it, I shot the two finger rock symbol up into the air more times than I can count, I swayed with sweaty bodies that were groovin’ right along with me, and for two glorious hours, I felt alive, invigorated, and grateful. Many people my age have a mental foot in the grave. Life is short enough, why not enjoy the ride to the last breath?

That is all.

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