Still hip — when they’re not napping

Written by Joe Pisani
Wednesday, 06 October 2010 23:00

While I was at a Jackson Browne concert recently, a middle-aged couple fell asleep after two songs and snored the rest of the evening. It reminded me of my tormented nights in the Fordham dorm circa 1972, listening to my roommate snore like a bear in hibernation — so loud I had to restrain myself from putting a pillow over his head.

I suppose it’s a sign of the times now that Baby Boomers — 76 million Americans born between 1946 and 1964 — start turning 65 on Jan. 1. Our values have changed, and we appreciate a good nap more than anything else, except maybe a tall glass of Metamucil.

Despite the extra pounds, the loss of hair and the loss of pensions, the pushing-65 crowd seemed alive and well at the concert, even though a few needed canes and more than a few needed Flomax.

Many dressed like they did in the 1960s — probably in the same clothes — with love beads and tie-dyed T-shirts. A woman beside me had pigtails and looked like “Half Pint” on “Little House on the Prairie,” about to collect her first Social Security check, while another guy, who had more hair in his nose than on his head, managed to pull together a stubby pony tail. I estimate there were more beer bellies than they have at NASCAR rallies.

Hearing my peers say “out of sight,” “what’s happening?” and worst of all, “groovy,” made me cringe, but I suppose it’s therapeutic to act like teenagers when a fellow in his 60s is singing the good old tunes even if they have portentous titles like “Running on Empty.”

Rock ‘n’ roll still makes us do crazy things. My good friend Jean has a shrine to Mick Jagger in her home that has more chotskies than the Christmas Tree Shop. She’s a church-going woman, but when she talks about Mick, she thinks sinful thoughts, and we have to restrain her.

And my good friend Joan, who is active in parish ministry, could be coaxed to leave her husband for Paul McCartney as a humanitarian gesture to help an aging rock star.

Why do grown women act like girls gone wild when it comes to rock stars? Were they the ones who screamed and swooned and fainted when the Beatles sang, “I Wanna Hold Your Hand"? (While I confess to a certain attraction for Stevie Nicks, I haven’t fainted yet, although I occasionally succumb to heavy breathing.)

One of my daughters went to a Train concert recently and said the 40-something women were out of control, quaffing beers and showing skin.

As much as I want to appear cultured and impress my friends by going to the opera to see the elephants in “Aida,” there’s something about a rock concert that deludes me into thinking I’m 19 again, even though those delusions end as soon as I look in the mirror.

But if rock ‘n’ roll can keep you young, then I say, “Let the good times roll!” After I take my nap.

Joe Pisani can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .