Bach on the mountaintop

After that nice note the other day about my first book, "Back Page Stories," I came across a copy of my second book, "Yours Truly - a book of the blog," a compilation of my first year of blog posts, including my five month stay in France. My mother kept her copy by her bedside and told me it was the best book she'd ever read, though since she was not a great reader, and she was also my mother, that's perhaps not the review to put on the cover. 

Inside, I found this entry from Friday Feb. 22 2008. This was before I started to go to Macca concerts. I was 57.

 Not a rocking chair

My beloved Paul McCartney was on the British Music Awards last night, getting an award and then playing a few songs. He was wearing tight black pants, a mod little jacket and Beatle boots, he and his band rocked and screamed and crooned, and I thought, “My God, this man is nearly 66 years old!” He’s the age when people retire and settle into their lazy boy chairs with the remote, join the shuffleboard team, buy the skirts and pants with the stretchy waistbands and the comfy shoes and let it all sag out. Not the Paul machine. There’s something absurd and fantastic about the fact that so many boomer heroes – Eric Clapton, the Stones, the Who – just keep going.

         

Paul’s voice was rough last night, but his hair was a lustrous brown, and he jumped around looking pretty damn great. I’m proud of the way we are redefining middle age. I can see us all in groovy old folks communes, with state of the art sound and movie systems and hookahs built into our Mag-wheeled, graffiti-splattered wheelchairs.

         
Rock on, Grandpa Paul.

Well, that’s not the image of a 66-year old - or of a grandparent - I have today, that’s for sure!

Your inspiration for today, ageless readers - a  musician climbs a mountain with a cello on her back, to play Bach at the top.
https://aeon.co/videos/a-bach-cello-piece-played-atop-a-mountain-is-as-exhilarating-as-you-d-expect