Old Timer—Willie Nelson

#365Songs: October 5th

You had your run
And it’s been a good one
Seems like the world is passing you by
Oh Father Time
He just keeps on ticking
Still got a lot of life and a song to sing

I’ve never liked birthdays all that much. It’s just another day, afterall. For a few years, a decade or so ago, it was nice to hear from old friends and acquaintances on Facebook. Back before the platform added a few easy-to-click templates, turning a gesture into yet another pseudo-automated daily routine.

I’ve also never been one to ponder too much about aging, though I’m often unnerved by the passing of time. Even when days seem endless — burdened by meetings, chores, errands, hard conversations — the weeks pass so quickly, the seasons change seemingly overnight. Nothing marks time faster than watching a child grow from baby to toddler to emo teen.

Thing is, I don’t feel old. Sure, my knees ache from running too many miles and portraying the character of a young soccer player on weekends with the kid, and I utter the word “ouch” at least six dozen times a day for no apparent reason. Sure, I may feel existential exhaustion at the state of the world, at all the unfulfilled dreams that get nudged aside year after year, at the necessity to perform in environments I’d rather avoid. Sure, I wake up too many nights with indescribable dread and anxiety about a range of problems I’m incapable of resolving. And yet, really, seriously, no kidding, I don’t feel old.

You fell in love
Back in the day
Can’t forget her face
Can’t remember her name
She was a beauty
A shining star
Just when you weren’t looking she broke your heart

I know a lot of people who dream of being young again. I fall into many doom loops and black holes, but that’s not one of them. Not that there aren’t many things I’d do differently, given the chance, but life doesn’t work that way. Regret is a wasted emotion, and as a storyteller I’m fully aware that you can’t change one small detail without altering everything that came next. Everything in life invites unexpected consequences, some good some bad, but I’m wise enough to know that every alternative version is as complex as the one I’ve already lived.

I don’t feel old because I don’t act old. I can relate to my son and his friends, maintain a steady and engaging conversation on most subjects my peers can’t keep up with anymore, and don’t catch myself using phrases that date me. I keep up with culture, even — I hope — continue to help define it. Throw me in a bar with kids half my age and I won’t feel out of place, most of the time, but seat me at dinner with my contemporaries I’ll likely grow restless or frustrated with the repetition of topics, the apathy so prevalent in those who’ve settled deep into their ‘40s.

You been down every highway
Burned your share of bridges
You found forgiveness
You think that you’re still a young bull rider
Til you look in the mirror and see an old timer

I often quote the great Biblical-inspired line spoken a few times by various characters in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia, “You may be done with the past, but the past is not done with you.” That, but applied to age: “You may not feel old, but you’re getting old.” Perhaps that’s why I hate birthdays. The inevitability of falling out of time, moving slower, fading faster. I may not feel old, but I’m also no longer as young as I feel.

To live, truly live, is to forget more things than most people ever knew, to accumulate enough stories to revisit much later when such adventures are far less likely. That always came easy to me.

One by one
Your friends have crossed over
You pray for mercy and a few more days
Still got dreams inside your head
Someday it’s a struggle just to get out of bed

But time has moved so much faster as a result of the pandemic, these recent years a blur. So much less accomplished, fewer miles traveled, too many old friends now acquaintances scattered to all ends of the world. So many changes, too much to process. Nothing came back quite the way it was before 2020, and like so many of us, I haven’t yet recaptured the spirit of who I used to be.

A lot happens in five years, even to the most apathetic amongst us. It might not feel like it, as some shifts are subtle, go unprocessed, get lost in the blur of the everyday. I’m about to pass through my fifth birthday since the pandemic began, and I’m suddenly aware of how much these years have aged me. I don’t feel old, but I do feel a whole lot older than I did before this all began.

You been down every highway
Burned your share of bridges
You found forgiveness
You think that you’re still a young bull rider
Til you look in the mirror and see an old timer
An old timer

I first listened to Willie’s Old Timer when it came out in 2017. He was 84 at the time, and I was seven years younger than I’ll be in two days. Willie lived several lifetimes between the age I’ll be and the age he was when he wrote this song. I may hate birthdays, but I value the life that can be lived between those days. I may not have the power to stop the passing of time, or the aging of a body, but I do have control over how I spend those days. We all do, for the most part.

I’m reminded of the last lines of Mary Oliver’s The Summer Day:

Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

One sign of my age is that I’m a stubborn old fuck, and that’s exactly why I refuse to feel old. That’s what I plan to do with my one wild and precious life: to keep living it as if it’s the only one I’ve got.

~

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