Confessions of a Truman Baby

Cusp2I have now reached the age I always thought was exclusively reserved for people’s parents, but never for me.

My name is Perry Block. I am 65 years old, born September 12, 1950. I am a Truman baby. 

I hate all of these facts. 

When I was younger, I thought old people were totally cool with the concept of getting older. They felt they’d finally achieved the age they were always supposed to be. When they’d be shaving in the morning and looked in the mirror and saw Larry King, they’d point at Larry King, give a wry smile, and make that  satisfied click-click sound people make with their tongues at the side of the mouth.

“Yep,” they’d say “that’s me!  I sure do look my age, which is great! I’m worn out,wrinkled, bald, and with absolutely no chance of attracting anything less than the scurviest of women on the planet!  It’s all as it should be.”

Then they’d go out of the bathroom into the bedroom to masturbate to Judi Dench.

But none of that is true!  Inside we remain 30 forever.  My outsides may look like Bernie Sanders decaying from exposure to Strontium 90, but inside I’m Ryan Reynolds. Or Ryan Gosling, I’m actually not sure which is which.

Ever look at a very old couple —say 85-90 years old — sitting together at dinner at a restaurant? You probably think “my, that’s charming!”  Trust me, it’s not.  The old boy is thinking “who the fuck is this prune danish I’m sitting next to?! And why isn’t the hot young waitress groping me under the table every time she brings the cheese rolls?”

Why’s he think this way?  Because inside he’s 30.  Just like all of us.

I always knew of course that these days were coming, but I didn’t expect them to come at the speed of the drop in Chevy Chase’s career.  My whole life feels more like a montage than a continuing and fulfilling process over time. And it isn’t a montage whereby at the end crowds are cheering for me and handing me roses and champagne. Frankly at the end of the montage I’m sitting in the living room with the clicker going “y’know, this is sort where I came in.”

So what’s a bummed out Baby Boomer to do?

I’ve distilled it all down to a few major goals.  Hopefully you’ll see them all realized in next year’s edition of the montage.

1) I will live in the moment, as long as it’s somebody else’s moment.

2) I will never shrink from a challenge.  I will only shrink if somebody has put me in a dryer.

3) I will realize that the only thing I have to fear is fear itself, and all the scary ass things that cause fear.

4) I will be kinder to those people around me.  Those people  above and below me I’m gonna fuck over.

5) I will do something to benefit and enhance the Jewish people.  I might have to convert to another religion to do that.

6)  I will say the “f” word much less.  It only cheapens discourse, bringing everything to a lower level.  However, I will write “fuck” much more often.

7) I will be kind to animals, realizing they are all God’s creatures.  But God’s not gonna get my dog!

8) I will try to put all my regrets behind me. Then I will turn around and go through the rest of my life backwards.

9) I will never again whine about what comes to me. I will just generally whine.

10 ) I will use my time well, except when  the revival of Full House is on.

Oh, and one more thing.

I will try.

My name is Perry Block. I am 65 years old, born September 12, 1950. I am a Truman baby. 

I hate all of these facts. 

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10 thoughts on “Confessions of a Truman Baby”

  1. Wow, Perry. How do I do that ?…Feel 30 inside thing? I have aches and pains everywhere. I know I didn’t have them when I was thirty. I’m due to be 56 in less than a month. My body feels at least 56. Thank God I’m smarter than I was at 30 too. The only thing I can’t figure out is why every mirror in the universe makes me look 56. I’m sure there’s a mirror conspiracy. For that matter, the same conspiracy has taken over all cameras as well. Now a true entrepreneur would fix this problem and get rich off us boomers who still want to see ourselves as 30! Then we can work on how I feel on the inside.

    1. I have figured it out and it goes something like this: There is a mythic being known as the LOJM (Little Old Jewish Man.) I believe there may also be a LOJW. Whenever I look in the mirror or have a picture taken, the LOJM leaps in front of the mirror or camera and replaces my handsome 30-ish looking face with his own hideous visage. There is but one answer – the LOJM must be destroyed! Or at least sent away on a long weekend.

  2. Perry, I’m also a Baby Boomer—who was addicted to the Hokey Pokey. But then I turned myself around.

    So don’t lose hope.

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