Peer…anyone left out there?

Let’s start with the obvious. You need peers to feel peer pressure. But somewhere around late middle age, the herd begins thinning out. You know, old friends go silent on Facebook. You find yourself doing Google searches for old girlfriends and find obituaries instead -” Shit, I didn’t think she was dead!” You’re one religious friend begins to make noises about getting saved, and abandoning all this secular shit you’ve always liked.

Now, this is not all bad. Some of the big silences are from enemies: old girlfriends who dumped you, people who told lies about that time in Chicago ( absolutely untrue; she was not underage), or old bosses you hated. but still, you begin to feel a bit isolated.

After thinking about this for a week or two, I got together with Charlie. Charlie is my old traveling guitar. We’ve been together since, I think, 1962. We’ve been hitting the scales and progressions every night for the past several weeks. Some of the old chops are coming back. I need to regain some strength in my left hand, and then we’ll be ready.

Ready for what you ask? The Septuagenarian Retread Folkie Festival? Well, why not? You see, I’m close to being the last flag still flying. I can get up on stage, fumble my way through some old songs, and tell outrageous stories about people I knew back in the day in the Village. Who’s going to say otherwise?

My oldest remaining friend is my guitar, and Charlie’s not telling!