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Friday, April 21, 2023
Bahá’í World Centre: Leaving after many years of service in Holy Land
It's Snowing
And today it reached ninety four degrees in the Coachella Valley.
When I lived in Utah, I was stuck in Utah. I could get in my car and drive twelve hours to Los Angeles, but flying was out of the question, and long distance phone calls were expensive. You left town and never heard of your friends thereafter, unless you returned to town. You instantly lost touch with your college buddies.
But that was then and this is now.
The world has shrunk. And it's only going to get smaller. People get on planes just to see a concert. You never lose touch with anyone you've ever known. And you never feel at your limits, like you're in danger, no matter where you are. Happens all the time, unprepared hikers call for rescue on their cell phone. Furthermore, if you've got a new iPhone, you can SOS via satellite, from everywhere. And except for a few places, like the top of Mount Everest, a helicopter can land and pick you up. I'm not saying you cannot die out in the elements, but that feeling, of freaking out, in the danger zone, it doesn't happen that often anymore.
Today it was twenty degrees and windy at the top of Vail. And I mean WINDY! Dan said he felt like he was being blown backward. I loved it. I love being in the elements. It makes me feel alive. Especially in a snowstorm, when it gets so quiet.
I never went to Florida or Puerto Rick or the Virgin Islands on school vacations. Those were for skiing, for going to Vermont. But at some point, the season would end, the snow would disappear, and you'd have to wait until November to ski again.
But if you're in the west...
The west used to be exotic. Going to Colorado or Utah, never mind Wyoming, to go skiing! Wow, most people never did. As far as Mammoth Mountain in California, open to July 4th, that was nearly unfathomable. You heard about it, but information was scarce. There was no internet, never mind cams.
So when I graduated from college I wanted to go west.
That was when you were afraid of rednecks, when you didn't want to drive with long hair south of the Mason-Dixon line. But I'd cut all my hair off back in '71. I'm a contrary. I don't want to be a member of the group. I don't want to be judged just like everybody else in the group.
And now there isn't even a group. Except a very large one, the baby boomers. But like that old Kinks song, I'm not like everybody else. I chalk it up to my father. All the lessons a dad teaches his son, about fitting in, being a member of the group, holding your tongue, girls... My father was not that person, whatsoever. He'd talk about money, getting ripped-off, how the world worked. He taught us how to stand up. But he never taught us how to be a cog in the system. Get along to keep a job. It's natural to most people, but not me. Hold my personality back? Make friends just so I can move up the ladder and get another job if I get fired? I had no idea. As a matter of fact, I kinda believed the world ran on merit. What a crock. The world runs on relationships. Unless you are unique and have merit beyond the usual suspect, but you still need relationships.
I also thought my path was forever. Those musicians who now work straight jobs... I'm gonna pursue my goal until I die, even if I starve along the way. Isn't that what life is about, pursuing your dream? Going all in? I remember my shrink asking me about a fallback position. I told him THERE IS NONE! And if there is one, you're never going to make it. Because that's how hard it is to make it. But people don't know this. People would prefer to live on the outside, sans risk. Go to the show, but not become an equal with the artist, never mind being friends with them. And most people don't want to know how the world works. Because it's too disillusioning and they feel bad about themselves. They tell themselves they could have made it if they wanted to, but they didn't want it that bad. But they don't know how bad you have to want it, like in that old Don Henley song, not bad enough.
I listen to "The End of the Innocence" constantly. And I sing it in my head. It makes so much sense. But that was about Reagan, and Reagan is deep in the rearview mirror. And no one wants to hear what oldsters have to say about anything, so the oldster artists stop producing. Yet oldsters run the government, how does that work? No wonder today's youth are disillusioned. If you have to explain to the person how a computer, or a smartphone, works, you know they're over the hill. There are no instructions, you have to learn by doing. But these are the same people who don't know how to work their televisions. It's a steep learning curve, but once you get over the hurdle...
I'm thinking about all this, because tomorrow is my birthday. A milestone. A number that no one can say is young. I'm old. How did this happen?
I look back and realize I lived all those years, I had all those experiences, but somehow I thought there was more. But there's not. My brethren are passing. It's downhill from here. You can try to deny it, but you can't beat father time. You live, you die, that's the way of the world.
So I'm riding up the gondola two weeks ago and the woman across asks me how old I am. She's the same age I am. And she looked terrible. So how did I look?
The youngsters look at me different. I feel no different, but they perceive me differently. I'm old. Like my parents. So many try to deny it, with hogwash about sixty being the new forty and crap like that.
But I wouldn't want to repeat it all, it was too hard. I don't wan to go back to high school. Nor college. Going back to school? Never!
I don't want to be twentysomething going to the bar, trying to meet someone, unsuccessfully.
Man, life is tough.
It's easier if you jump through the hoops, but how much fun is that?
So my goal is to ski on my birthday. Vail isn't open every year on April 22nd, but when it is, I'm here. I've also gone to Mammoth on my birthday, because this is who I am. If I ski on my birthday, I'm still myself. I haven't given in, or given up. I'm still me. I haven't lost a step in my mind. I don't care what others think.
And when I'm in the elements...
I like that best. The aforementioned quiet in a snowstorm. A stormy day or a sunny one. It makes me feel alive. My mantra is you walk out the front door and you never know what will happen.
And that's what life is about.
Two weeks ago it was in the fifties. Now it's like the middle of winter, although the sun doesn't set until after seven. It's like Christmas is around the corner.
Really, it's like late October, early November in Vermont. A terrible season. When it's cold, sometimes bitter, and it snows, but then it melts. You know something is coming, winter. I like the summer, but winter is my favorite. I'd rather be cold than hot. And today I was wearing Under Armour 3.0 underwear and down mittens and...
It felt good to be alive.
The modern skis, with their sidecut. You lay them on edge and they turn. It's magic. You get a feeling, that isn't quite as good as sex, but it's in the ballpark.
So tomorrow I'll get back out there. I go every day, it keeps me regular. Even if I don't want to go. Because I'll be riding the chair in a mediocre mood and then something will happen. The sun will come out, I'll have that one special run, the perfect turn.
That's me.
And the fact that it's snowing out...shows there are no rules anymore. It's not that it never happens at this time of year in Vail, but we've got global warming, it didn't snow in New York City and they're partying at Coachella and...
I'm trying to party in my mind. This birthday is scary. But it's just one day, and then it will be past. I've got one special day, where I can eat crap and everybody has to defer to me and...
On too many birthdays I've been bummed out and missed it.
I'm going to try and enjoy tomorrow.
Wish me luck!
--
Visit the archive: lefsetz.com/wordpress/
--
Listen to the podcast:
-iHeart: ihr.fm/2Gi5PFj
-Apple: apple.co/2ndmpvp
--
www.twitter.com/lefsetz
--
If you would like to subscribe to the LefsetzLetter,
www.lefsetz.com/lists/?p=subscribe&id=1
If you do not want to receive any more LefsetzLetters, Unsubscribe
To change your email address this link
When I lived in Utah, I was stuck in Utah. I could get in my car and drive twelve hours to Los Angeles, but flying was out of the question, and long distance phone calls were expensive. You left town and never heard of your friends thereafter, unless you returned to town. You instantly lost touch with your college buddies.
But that was then and this is now.
The world has shrunk. And it's only going to get smaller. People get on planes just to see a concert. You never lose touch with anyone you've ever known. And you never feel at your limits, like you're in danger, no matter where you are. Happens all the time, unprepared hikers call for rescue on their cell phone. Furthermore, if you've got a new iPhone, you can SOS via satellite, from everywhere. And except for a few places, like the top of Mount Everest, a helicopter can land and pick you up. I'm not saying you cannot die out in the elements, but that feeling, of freaking out, in the danger zone, it doesn't happen that often anymore.
Today it was twenty degrees and windy at the top of Vail. And I mean WINDY! Dan said he felt like he was being blown backward. I loved it. I love being in the elements. It makes me feel alive. Especially in a snowstorm, when it gets so quiet.
I never went to Florida or Puerto Rick or the Virgin Islands on school vacations. Those were for skiing, for going to Vermont. But at some point, the season would end, the snow would disappear, and you'd have to wait until November to ski again.
But if you're in the west...
The west used to be exotic. Going to Colorado or Utah, never mind Wyoming, to go skiing! Wow, most people never did. As far as Mammoth Mountain in California, open to July 4th, that was nearly unfathomable. You heard about it, but information was scarce. There was no internet, never mind cams.
So when I graduated from college I wanted to go west.
That was when you were afraid of rednecks, when you didn't want to drive with long hair south of the Mason-Dixon line. But I'd cut all my hair off back in '71. I'm a contrary. I don't want to be a member of the group. I don't want to be judged just like everybody else in the group.
And now there isn't even a group. Except a very large one, the baby boomers. But like that old Kinks song, I'm not like everybody else. I chalk it up to my father. All the lessons a dad teaches his son, about fitting in, being a member of the group, holding your tongue, girls... My father was not that person, whatsoever. He'd talk about money, getting ripped-off, how the world worked. He taught us how to stand up. But he never taught us how to be a cog in the system. Get along to keep a job. It's natural to most people, but not me. Hold my personality back? Make friends just so I can move up the ladder and get another job if I get fired? I had no idea. As a matter of fact, I kinda believed the world ran on merit. What a crock. The world runs on relationships. Unless you are unique and have merit beyond the usual suspect, but you still need relationships.
I also thought my path was forever. Those musicians who now work straight jobs... I'm gonna pursue my goal until I die, even if I starve along the way. Isn't that what life is about, pursuing your dream? Going all in? I remember my shrink asking me about a fallback position. I told him THERE IS NONE! And if there is one, you're never going to make it. Because that's how hard it is to make it. But people don't know this. People would prefer to live on the outside, sans risk. Go to the show, but not become an equal with the artist, never mind being friends with them. And most people don't want to know how the world works. Because it's too disillusioning and they feel bad about themselves. They tell themselves they could have made it if they wanted to, but they didn't want it that bad. But they don't know how bad you have to want it, like in that old Don Henley song, not bad enough.
I listen to "The End of the Innocence" constantly. And I sing it in my head. It makes so much sense. But that was about Reagan, and Reagan is deep in the rearview mirror. And no one wants to hear what oldsters have to say about anything, so the oldster artists stop producing. Yet oldsters run the government, how does that work? No wonder today's youth are disillusioned. If you have to explain to the person how a computer, or a smartphone, works, you know they're over the hill. There are no instructions, you have to learn by doing. But these are the same people who don't know how to work their televisions. It's a steep learning curve, but once you get over the hurdle...
I'm thinking about all this, because tomorrow is my birthday. A milestone. A number that no one can say is young. I'm old. How did this happen?
I look back and realize I lived all those years, I had all those experiences, but somehow I thought there was more. But there's not. My brethren are passing. It's downhill from here. You can try to deny it, but you can't beat father time. You live, you die, that's the way of the world.
So I'm riding up the gondola two weeks ago and the woman across asks me how old I am. She's the same age I am. And she looked terrible. So how did I look?
The youngsters look at me different. I feel no different, but they perceive me differently. I'm old. Like my parents. So many try to deny it, with hogwash about sixty being the new forty and crap like that.
But I wouldn't want to repeat it all, it was too hard. I don't wan to go back to high school. Nor college. Going back to school? Never!
I don't want to be twentysomething going to the bar, trying to meet someone, unsuccessfully.
Man, life is tough.
It's easier if you jump through the hoops, but how much fun is that?
So my goal is to ski on my birthday. Vail isn't open every year on April 22nd, but when it is, I'm here. I've also gone to Mammoth on my birthday, because this is who I am. If I ski on my birthday, I'm still myself. I haven't given in, or given up. I'm still me. I haven't lost a step in my mind. I don't care what others think.
And when I'm in the elements...
I like that best. The aforementioned quiet in a snowstorm. A stormy day or a sunny one. It makes me feel alive. My mantra is you walk out the front door and you never know what will happen.
And that's what life is about.
Two weeks ago it was in the fifties. Now it's like the middle of winter, although the sun doesn't set until after seven. It's like Christmas is around the corner.
Really, it's like late October, early November in Vermont. A terrible season. When it's cold, sometimes bitter, and it snows, but then it melts. You know something is coming, winter. I like the summer, but winter is my favorite. I'd rather be cold than hot. And today I was wearing Under Armour 3.0 underwear and down mittens and...
It felt good to be alive.
The modern skis, with their sidecut. You lay them on edge and they turn. It's magic. You get a feeling, that isn't quite as good as sex, but it's in the ballpark.
So tomorrow I'll get back out there. I go every day, it keeps me regular. Even if I don't want to go. Because I'll be riding the chair in a mediocre mood and then something will happen. The sun will come out, I'll have that one special run, the perfect turn.
That's me.
And the fact that it's snowing out...shows there are no rules anymore. It's not that it never happens at this time of year in Vail, but we've got global warming, it didn't snow in New York City and they're partying at Coachella and...
I'm trying to party in my mind. This birthday is scary. But it's just one day, and then it will be past. I've got one special day, where I can eat crap and everybody has to defer to me and...
On too many birthdays I've been bummed out and missed it.
I'm going to try and enjoy tomorrow.
Wish me luck!
--
Visit the archive: lefsetz.com/wordpress/
--
Listen to the podcast:
-iHeart: ihr.fm/2Gi5PFj
-Apple: apple.co/2ndmpvp
--
www.twitter.com/lefsetz
--
If you would like to subscribe to the LefsetzLetter,
www.lefsetz.com/lists/?p=subscribe&id=1
If you do not want to receive any more LefsetzLetters, Unsubscribe
To change your email address this link
Karl Lagerfeld at the Met: Designer, Polymath, Puzzle
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