It’s my birthday today.
I’m 65.
Once again, this is the oldest I’ve ever been.
But it’s getting scarier. My grandfather was sixty-five. That’s old.
Unless I live to a hundred and thirty, I have gone way past the half way point. Way, way past.
I’ve noticed the changes. And I’m not just talking about the galoot I see in the mirror. My playful banter with the ladies behind the checkout counters has officially consigned me to the “Aww” version of the “adorable” category. Not that I had any intention of following through. But there’s a saddening certainty that, without coming into of billions of dollars, sixty-five sets me permanently on the bench.
When you reach the age where the government pays for your medicine, you realize there are certain things you will never get to do. For me, these are not realistic things I would do if I only had the time or the money or the guts. These were just harbored fantasies. They were never going to happen. But when you’re younger, you have an easier time fooling yourself that they might.
Before abandoning these unlikely but, until recently, imaginable possibilities, I have decided to file them for posterity on this blog. I don’t know how many of these fantasies there are; I keep some secret even from myself. But I’m kicking off the series with this one:
Earl Pomerantz – Performing at the Cowboy Hall of Fame
I come onstage, dressed as “cowboy” as my spouse will allow me to appear in public, and in a voice, more energetic than melodic, I open my mouth, and I start to sing:
He cleaned up the country
The Old Wild West country
He made law and order prevail
And none can deny it
The legend of Wyatt
Forever will live on the trail.
Wyatt Earp, Wyatt Earp
Brave, courageous, and bold
Long live his fame, and long live his glory
And long may his story be told…
Back when the West was very young
There lived a man named Masterson
He wore a cane and derby hat
They called him Bat
Bat Masterson…
Who was the tall, dark stranger there
Maverick is the name
Ridin’ the trail to who knows where
Luck is his companion
Gamblin’ is his game…
Whistle me up a memory
Whistle me back to where I want to be
Whistle a tune that will carry me
To Tombstone Territory…
“Have Gun – Will Travel”, reads the card of a man
A knight without armor in a savage land
His fast gun for hire meets the calling wind
A soldier of fortune is the man called
Paladin…
They sing of Yancey Derringer on every danger trail
On river boat, in manor house
And now and then in jail
They say that Yancey Derringer
Had ruffles at his wrists
Brocade and silver buckles
And iron in his fists…
Ringo, Johnny Ringo
His fears were never shown
The fastest gun in all the West
The quickest ever known…
Johnny Yuma was a rebel
He roamed through the West
Did Johnny Yuma, the rebel
He wandered alone
He got fightin’ mad, this rebel lad
He packed no star as he wandered far
Where the only law was a hook and a…
Lawman
The Lawman came with the sun
There was a job to be done
And so they sent for the badge and the gun
Of the Lawman…
Cheyenne, Cheyenne, where will you be camping tonight…
Sugarfoot, Sugarfoot
Easy lopin’ cattle ropin’
Sugarfoot…
Bronco, Bronco, tearin’ across the Texas plains
Bronco, Bronco – Bronco Lane…
He roamed the wilderness, unafraid
From Natchez to Rio Grande
With all the might of his gleaming blade
He fought for the rights of Man.
Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie
He was a bold, adventurin’ man
Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie
Battled for right with a powerful hand
His blade was tempered and so was he
Indestructible steel was he
Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie, Jim Bowie
A fightin’ and fearless and mighty adventurin’ man…
Keep
Movin’, movin’, movin’
Though they’re disapprovin’
Keep them doggies movin’
Rawhide
Don’t try to understand ‘em
Just rope and throw and brand ‘em
Soon we’ll be livin’ high and wide
My heart’s calculatin’
My true love will be waitin’
Be waitin’ at the end of my ride.
Get ‘em up, move ‘em on
Move ‘em on, get ‘em up
Get ‘em up, move ‘em on
Rawhide
Ride ‘em in, cut ‘em out
Cut ‘em out, ride ‘em in
Ride ‘em in, cut ‘em out
Rawhi-i-i-i-i-i-ide
Hyah!
And the crowd goes wild.
Coming Soon: Earl Pomerantz Entertains at the White House”
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11 comments:
Hi Pardner
I remember the rehearsal for this event....Banff, 1980-something, on horseback, up and down the trails of the great Rockies. Those were the days.
PG
Happy Birthday Earl!!!!!
65 isn't old, my guy has you beat by 2 years and I don't think he has given up on any possibilities...yet. :-)
Remember, with the new valve, you have at least another 65 in ya.
Enjoy.
Wunnerful, wunnerful! As a special birthday gift, to spare you the tedium of further daily exposition, every morning Frankie Lane will be singing the rest of your life on this blog’s new soundtrack. Unfortunate since you are now still not old enough for Blogger’s most coveted demographic, we’ve given your 4 a.m. timeslot to Jay Leno and moved you back to 3:30. Incidentally, Dimitri Tiomkin extends his best wishes, and requests a comparable big screen medley. The Warner Bros. also send their regards. Happy Birthday.
Earl, if I said I'd pay BIG BUCKS to see you pull this off...I'd be underexaggerating. Do bucks come any bigger?
Just wondering.
Happy Birthday Earl!!!!
Wishing you a great year.
=)
OH…
Warner Bros. actual regards.
http://www.peterbrown.tv/warners.html
HAPPY BIG 6-5, EARL ... Hoping this is just the start of a wonderful year!
Happy Birthday, you've had a very interesting year, but you've still got the funny gene.
Nice cowboy fantasy. Reminds me of the movie, The Blues Brothers, when the brothers are about to be attacked at the country/western bar, but they save the day with a rendition of "Rawhide."
Happy Birthday, Earl.
Every birthday, I claim that medical science has advanced enough in the past year that I still have half my life to go.
Jim Dodd
(not THAT Jimmie Dodd)
Wow, thanks for the trip down memory lane of all the westerns of my youth, Earl... and Happy Birthday! (People say that 45 is the new 30 and 65 is the new 50... and "Dead" is the new 90)
Happy Birthday Earl!
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