Really, I'm Okay, Please Go On Without Me

My wife and I have a game we like to play when we watch Jimmy Kimmel.

When the guests are announced at the beginning of the show, we play “How Many Have We Heard Of?”

Kimmel usually has three guests each night. I’d say my average is about 33%. Sometimes two out of the three. But on the other ends of the spectrum, I’ve heard of none of them WAY more than all three.

The same thing happens when I see an ad for any award show, or maybe a music festival, or scroll through Netflix.

I do have Apple Music. I ripped my CD collection (which replaced my cassette collection) to digital long ago. So I at least have one foot in this century.

But any music chart anymore may as well be written in another language. No idea who anyone is or what the songs are.

What happened??

Welcome to Go On Without Me, Dispatches from an Increasingly Irrelevant Demographic. (Wordy, yes. Consider it a work in progress, like everything else here.)

Yes, I’m in my late 50’s. No, this is not a mid-life crisis.

Okay, maybe a mild one. But pretty lame as they go, wouldn’t you say?

My goal here is to NOT have this become a series of “old man yells at cloud” or “back in my day” posts.

I just find it funny that I’m old enough to have a history. I’m now the person who says, “Oh yeah, I remember when that was a drug store. These condos didn’t used to be here.”

But there’s no point in getting pissed off at the passage of time, like we can do anything about it.

I look at it all with bemused detachment.

Like the fact that I was alive when that “historical” photo was taken. Like when I watch old “Columbo” episodes (I’m an addict) and remember the rotary phones, or the orange shag carpet and avocado appliances, or the Continental with a trunk bigger than my first apartment.

The fact I just admitted I’m a “Columbo” addict should pretty much tell you where this is coming from.

Again, I’m not shaking my fist at the sky, wondering why everything had to change and wishing for the good ol’ days.

This cycle has happened for millennia. I don’t understand today’s kids. My parents didn’t understand me. Their parents didn’t understand them. Cave parents didn’t understand this “fire” thing the kids were so obsessed with.

I admit the fact that I’ve chosen not to be a parent plays a big role in my cluelessness. I haven’t been forced to learn what my kids are into so I can have a decent conversation with them, or know what to get them for the Holidays.

But this allows me to have a distance from it, to have the luxury of “bemused detachment.” It’s like wandering through some mystical museum, where the exhibits change too quickly for you to keep up.

So when I say “Go On Without Me,” it’s with acceptance and humor about getting older and no longer being in the marketing crosshairs. I’m just looking around, somewhat puzzled, perfectly okay with the fact that none of this (waves hand in the air) is built for me anymore. It’s not a requirement that I understand.

But I hope you’ll join me as I try to, anyway. I’m hoping to do this weekly, but I’m still setting things up (a.k.a. coming up with ideas) so there may be bumps here and there.

As John Lennon said, “I’m just sittin’ here watching the wheels go round and round.” (I’m sure there’s a more current reference, but as you might have guessed I have no idea what it might be.)