When I took this photo outside the Pat Gail Gallery (she’s a funny lady), I was all YEAH! But now, I’m not so sure. I suppose it depends on what your definition of growing up actually is. Most of us are past the “Hope I die before I get old” thing. And we see the beautiful irony in it (or is it schadenfreude?).
But being frozen in time and never having to deal with Life – the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful – get’s old (ha!) pretty quickly as well. I picture an oversized goldfish stuck in a bowl. That’s trapped alright. Is it the perpetual mischief of Peter Pan that we want? The freedom from our bodies breaking down and expanding like rising dough that we crave? Perhaps it’s the passion and furor of our late-teens and early-20s, when every issue was one to scream about and tug and pull at with whoever would listen.
I have never been one to dread birthdays or cover gray hairs (I found my first one at 17). And so I’ll take growing up (and out) for now. I’ll take paying bills and cajoling my kids to eat their veggies. And I’ll take waking up slowly with creaking joints and heavy muscles. It’s only a trap if we aren’t paying attention.
And then there’s The Ramones.