Okay thanks to Diane flippin’ Sawyer I now feel older than dirt. However, I AM considerably younger than the Rolling Stones who 45 years ago (give or take a day) wrote the song I Can’t Get No Satisfaction. Now I was a pre-pubescent teen (tween?) at the time but I was old enough to know I thought the sun and moon rose in Mick Jagger. Plus I was madly in love with a local boy who could play a 12-string guitar, but that’s another story. I had my record player and of course bought their albums and played them day and night until my father threatened to throw the record player and all my records out the second story window. He had no musical sense whatsoever.
Then again at about that same time I was madly in lust over Paul McCartney and actually sat down with some girlfriends and wrote him this mushy fan letter. What did we know about mailing letters to England…of course it was returned due to insufficient postage. My father read it – and let me be blunt about this – I got the beating of my life for that little stunt. It was just a simple fan letter – it wasn’t like I was offering my body to the man — I just loved his music and I was a young impressionable girl. Dad made an impression on me…one that kept me from sitting down for several days. Yes, in my generation parents regularly beat the crap outta their kids to keep them in line and for the most part it worked. When he went to bed, however, out the window I went. bwahahahahaa. I was a horrid teen.
So now I’m reminded it was 45 years ago and I wonder did poor old 66 year old Mick ever get his satisfaction? I hope so. I’ve had years of satisfaction from his music…and that of the Who…and the Beatles…and even Herman’s Hermits. I always sing along when one of these oldies comes on the radio and then I’m reminded the song is called an oldie for a reason; and so that must mean I’m an oldie too. Well, crap on a crutch.
Sitting on the couch watching Diane flippin’ Sawyer reminisce over the Rolling Stones I started whining in the general direction of Devoted Spouse about how old I now felt and how I couldn’t even see anymore because my eyelids are falling down into my eyes….my butt is dragging the floor…my “girls” no longer peek up at the sun but stare at the ground and flop around on my knees when I move too fast…and what the heck is goin on with my neck anyway — do I have turkey DNA in my background somewhere? I would jump out the window out of total age frustration but with my luck I’d just break an ankle…and because of arthritis it would never heal.
I had reached the point of announcing that my life pretty much sucked when Devoted Spouse leaned over and said to me, “You’ll always be the most beautiful girl I know.” (grabs Kleenex box)
Forget the Rolling Stones – I got my own satisfaction…right here at home where my baby doesn’t care if I droop, drag, sag, or literally fall apart.
To quote another one of their songs….”you can’t always get what you want, but if you try real hard, you just might find, you get what you need.” sigh…