Thang Nguyen 555

We’re privy, each of us, to 15 min of fame ( Irene Cara herself). Andy Warhol, Woody Allen etc.. all famous, with memorable quotes. Life compressed. A short sentence. One word. Name.

People , who taught me about life, have all passed away. They showed me the opposite of the ideal they instilled in me. In short, failed expectations.

Then that falling short keeps passing down, from one generation to the next: “Don’t speak ill of the dead”. Hence, the lie keeps perpetuating. Tugged under the couch, hidden under the rug.

When old people speak the truth, they are shut down and labeled as “Grumpy” (Walter Matthau, and now Rob Reiner). Our image of a hero is thwarted: male, WASP, tall, larger than life, womanizer and drinker. Justified violence and always wins in the end, in the Name of the Father.

Hollywood version. Roaring like the MGM lion at the beginning. A few twists and turns of the plot thrown in, for realism. But most times, every time, it’s for good reviews, mass consumption and ticket sale.

Feel good. Forget. What is history? that’s for librarian and Dewey decimal.

We’ve got Google for spelling and remembering. No one, no one should misspell (auto-correct). Life is from here on out, perfect. Slick. No errors and no missteps.

And thanks to machine-aided technique, we now upload, comment, and always a step ahead of events and happening (the 6PM-news broadcast seems outdated).

It’s a world full of facts, untruths and myths. The more we know, the less we know.

The paradox of modern age. Wisdom is dying off. People I trust, who taught me about life, have died off. Leaving me and handing me the torch. To play the Old Man and the keyboards. What to say besides: let’s move on. Let’s preserve the good things. On giants’ shoulders we stand, tall. Spread your wings and dance while you still can. On Broadway and Highway. Like Irene. Like Woody. Like Andy.

Before it’s too late. Before we are forgetful. Before we become species of yesterday. You may say these are old-man’s rant. Yes they are, and hopefully landing on receptive ears. Most times, people are turned off. It’s called selective perception: we only seek out and confirm what we already held as true.

So let it be. A lonely planet. A world divided. Mind’s interior and the Moon’s exterior. Keep exploring. In here and out there. Until you get old, like me, with fingers on the keyboards. Making some noise.

Old man and the keys.