Baby Boomers Should Know Better

On an impulse I went online and ordered tickets to the Michael McDonald and Steely Dan concert at Riverbend last Tuesday. Let's just say I am over 50 and have been a fan of Mike, Walter and Donald for many years. I must admit I frittered away many hours listening to the Doobie Brothers and Steely Dan on my old victrola when I was younger, much younger.

Today we send out alarms about the power of video games and the hold they have on our youth. I confess that listening to music on good stereos was a primary occupation for me for about 2 or 3 years during my foggy 20s.

Anyways, I thought it would be great to hear those guys again. I remember the last time Steely Dan was in town and it was fun evening. I purchased lawn tickets for my wife and I and arrived about a half hour before the concert started. As we walked in to find a comfortable place to plant our beach chairs and I could not help but notice others with the same intentions.

My first impression-everyone looked old! And then I it dawned on me. I am old too! The last time I saw Steely Dan was in Cincinnati was in 1993. All the concertgoers putting blankets down and milling about were 13 years older. We all are getting comfortable for an evening of wheeze rock. That realization put me a sour mood for the next few minutes. I kept waiting for promotional giveaways and fliers for Preparation H, Cialas, or Nexium. Fortunately Riverbend and the bands' promoters had the good sense not to do that. However, I did some interesting examples that reminded me how old I was.

Several concertgoers came wearing t-shirts from Steely Dan's 1993 tour. Think about it. How many of us can actually fit into t-shirts purchased a decade and half ago? I know I can't. There were other fans that tried and failed miserably.

I saw a woman wearing another t-shirt that read, "I'm with the Band." That was a cute joke 20 years ago, but wheeze rockers should know better. If she was with the Band, she either was their equipment manager or their trailer cleaner. I think there is a natural expiration date for groupiedom. And believe me, this lady expired a long time ago!

Trying to squeeze into old concert clothes is getting harder and harder. Fortunately most of the other attendees wore more age appropriate attire. I know I just don't look good in tie-dye or beads anymore.

The other personal grooming faux paux that was evident among a few male tickets holders was long hair. Or should I say miserable attempts at long hair. I think one of the central planks in New Gingrich's 1994 Contract for America was a clear promise to outlaw mullets on men over 40 years old. Mullets on old guys just don't work. There are just too few hairs hanging below random balding spots all over shiny domes. I know it is an ugly picture. I can't help it. I just report the facts.

There was one piece of final evidence that reminded me that I was truly attending a wheeze rock show. I saw hundreds of older white guys slowing getting out of their beach chairs to dance when they heard their favorite melodies. Inappropriate clothes and stringy mullets are bad. But ladies and gentlemen white guys over 50 can't dance. We couldn't when we were 20. Somehow we got away with it with youthful exuberance and major supplies of unjustified overconfidence. This display of unscripted and spontaneous "getting up to boogie" was probably the last glaring reminder that I am older than my parents. Flabby hips and boning knees were moving in all directions. Wives, embarrassed by the their husbands' "nonrythmic" dance steps, hid their faces.

Walter Brecker even tried to get more of us up with a rallying cry, "I didn't know that Cincinnati was a partying town!" I think he coughed after his call to arms.

To their credit, Walter, Michael and Donald put on a great show. It was a wonderful evening of nostalgia and some great musicianship.

My wife and I really had fun. We didn't stay for the last encore though. It was getting late and we both were really tired. I know I shouldn't give up. I should fight that growing old mentality. I just had to get home to take off my 1993 Steely Dan t-shirt. It was leaving red marks in my love handles.