I Am Bee Mice Elf

“It ain't what they call you, it's what you answer to.” ~W.C. Fields

i’m 47 years old – i AM 47 years old – I am 47 years OLD

Written By: IAmBeeMiceElf - Jul• 31•15

I went to get ice cream the other day — they were out of chocolate sprinkles.  The girl working asked if I wanted rainbow instead.  NO! I don’t care that I’m 47 years old – chocolate and rainbow sprinkles are NOT the same! They are not interchangeable.   I can’t even believe she would suggest such a thing and obviously had no business trying to sell me ice cream.  Once, when I was in ShopRite – a little girl was zig zagging as she walked down the meat slash seafood aisle.  Her mother looked down and told her to knock it off.  The little girl respectfully pointed out that she could only step on the white tiles in the black and white floor.  I don’t understand how any parent can not know this unwritten childhood law of supermarket shopping.  It’s right up there with not stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk.  I was actually very sad for that kid who’s mother did not remember this basic rule and would not let her continue with the plan. Someday, that woman may have a broken back from her kid stepping on the crack – or a broken spine because her daughter stepped on the line – and she will have no one to blame but herself.

Last summer I won so many concert tickets — Buckcherry – Crosby, Still, and Nash – Journey – Cheap Trick – Fuel – Boston – Steve Miller – Candlebox –  and so many more … I met so many cool people at those shows;  like I always have since my very first show — Twisted Sister – You Can’t Stop Rock n Roll Tour 1984 at the Mid Hudson Civic Center in Poughkeepsie NY.  I am so lucky to have been born when I was.  January of 1968. I have seen hippies, punk, and disco – I have seen 8 tracks, reel to reel, compact discs, and mp3.  I saw bell bottoms being worn in the 70’s, 90’s and now again (they may change the name -bell bottom to flair leg to mermaid leg … it’s all the same).

I’m 47 years old.  I can remember thinking, “35 years old is ancient, you might as well be a hundred, it’s almost exactly the same.” — yet somehow, as I get closer to 100 – I realize, not only am I grateful for every single year but that there is no such thing as grown.  There is only growing.   A friend recently tagged me in an article he posted on his Facebook page about how former metalheads grew up more “mentally well adjusted” than the kids who listened to other genres of music. It’s funny – that I’m 47 years old – I remember “meeting people” over the CB radio – and now 40some years later I”m “meeting people” on the internet.  I think of the people who are 100 now and imagine what they have seen in their lives. Do they want to deny themselves any of the years they have lived? If 35 is old… if 47 is old – what is 100? Pretty friggin awesome if you ask me.

I don’t understand why – especially women – deny their age.  I am 47 years old.  I WANT all of those years.  There are none I want to give  back to make myself younger.  I read all these stories about how women in their 40’s don’t give a crap what people think.  I never gave a crap.  Now, people will say – “Yes you do, or you wouldn’t have to say you didn’t” — except – I mean — I obviously dont’ want people to dislike me – I’m not a psycho – but really … if you don’t like me (ESPECIALLY for a non reason or because “you heard something” or because your friend doesn’t like me) well — no, I have no use for that.  I don’t care what you think.  I’d like to think that I was ahead of my time — that my peers have finally caught up in the “this is me, take me or leave me.”  And then I wonder how, a person can claim to be “grown and mature” and not like someone because their friend doesn’t.  I guess childish adults are another blog – this one is about this adult – who is admittedly “immature” and doesn’t pretend to be otherwise.

I’m 47 years old – that means … Ive seen shit, man I’VE SEEN THINGS!!!! I KNOW you don’t interchange chocolate and rainbow sprinkles — I know that it means you don’t step on the {color set by the child at the time of the encounter of the multi colored square} tile in the supermarket — I know that it means you reach out to “the kids” because reality is reality – in 1968, 1984 in 1999 in 2015 people have NOT changed — then I think – maybe it’s because “i’m metal” – maybe it’s because the outcasts knew there were no grownups.  Maybe metal kids saw through the hypocrisy of “grown up” because — well — Twisted Sister were “grown up” – Judas Priest was “grown up” – Alice Cooper was older than all of them and he was definitely NOT “mature.”  Maybe it’s because I felt those “grown ups” understood.  They remembered what it was like to be a teenager and they obviously must have been in on the big secret of “not caring” what people thought.

As I write this out – I can’t help but notice my own hypocrisy.  I talk about “grown ups” as if I don’t know, I am one ((and it kills me to write that out loud!)) I mean – I am 47 years old, I know I’m not “a kid”.  I know, in every analogy of life … whether it’s “the path” or “a hill” or “a journey” – I know that I’m on the descent; the second half of my “growing up”.  I also know I want these years and I am grateful for them.  That’s the theme here, right, that I’m thankful to be older -every day for every day?  I graduated, probably at the bottom of my class.  I had no intention of investing my youth in school work.  I had a life to live and it wasn’t in the walls of a high school. Actually it was, because that’s where my friends were – but as far as “the institution” itself, I had no interest in learning, being there, or paying any kind of attention.  I did the minimum that was required to pass with a 66 average and got the hell out!  My graduating class’s salutatorian passed away our 2nd year out of school in a boating accident, while away at college. He wasn’t the only one – there are a few of my old classmates who haven’t made it this far.  There have been a few (too many) who have recently passed away – from “the usual” things “old” people die of … accidents, cancers, heart attacks, suicides…

Which year do I want to give back to take some numbers off my age? The year we skipped school (more than once) and spent 6 hours at the Ponderosa All You Can Eat Steakhouse?  2-3 cars full of friends, wasting the day in the buffet, smoking cigarettes, talking about boys, and what we were going to do after we graduated? No, I want that year.  What about the year, when I was far too young, to get pregnant with my daughter.  No, I want that year too.  Would I give back the year my grandpa died? No, because to give it back would still be one less year I had to spend with him.  There was that one year I got my car repo’d.  Yes, I still want that year too, and the 2 years before that I drove around in my first “new car” — well — no, you can’t have any those years back either.

Youth thinks they have a 100 years and that it will feel like one hundred years – Age knows, those years last for one second. Youth thinks old people don’t know anything – old people were young a million years ago and this is a different world now.  Age knows, people don’t change, but age is forgetful.  Age says things like “we weren’t this disrespectful when we were young” and “these kids today…” — what I like to remind my peers, is that, there were no “good old days.”  We are 47 years old.  We were born in the 60s!!  A decade definitely NOT famous as a mellow and calm or “respectful” era.  We were kids in the 70s – cocaine, punk, Kent State,  Charles Manson, and birth control  (were these the years kids were “decent and respectful”?).  We became of age in the 80s! I do NOT want to give back ANY of the 80’s, totally, fer sure, gag me with a spoon – I LOVED the 80’s!! But I’m not about to claim we were sweet and proper. It was the birth of the PMRC – my metalhead years!  The years WE WERE “these kids today”!!! How do we forget that? Please, my peers – DO NOT forget that!

The man who coined the phrase “Never trust anyone over 30″, just turned 75 years old. I heard he’s still a community activist.  I bet he wouldn’t take back any of his years either and I’d bet he is proud and happy for every one.   I am 47 years old.  I want all my years.  I want my peers to want their years.  I want people to ask “how old are you?” and every woman to proudly say *the number* with NO shame!, with no hesitation, with no reluctance or waffling! SAY IT! Say I AM 47 YEARS OLD and I want every one of my years.  I want as many more as God wants to give me … and as long as I have the ability to remember (most) of the previous ones, –as long as I am able to know you can’t change rainbow and chocolate sprinkles, as long as I am able to remember you don’t step on the black tiles in the checkerboard floor, as long as I am able to control my bodily functions, I want many many more!!   And I’m not giving any of them back!








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One Comment

  1. John Moy says:

    It makes so much sense that we get along…

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