My teenage son and I were watching the concert for Hurricane Sandy Relief while The Who were onstage. He knows their music. His father and I are musicians and we make sure our kids are schooled in the classics, lest they end up with the misguided notion that John Mayer’s got it goin’ on or something.
So when the question came, I was caught totally off guard. “Who is that?
“What do you mean ‘who is that’, it’s The Who!”
“Them! The Who!”
And so it went; own rendition of “Who’s On First”.
“I mean, who are those old guys and why’d the lead singer take his shirt off?
God, he’s like seventy…gross!”
Shit, I thought Daltrey held up pretty well, actually and Townshend was pretty damn spry. They’ll probably be rockin’ “My Octogenarian” before long.
“Geez mom, they’re like your age, right? They look like they’re in better shape.”
I so shouldn’t fry before I get old and by the way, I’d ground the kid if he ever left the house in the first place. What is with these kids and their sardonic attitudes? Did I just say “what is with these kids?” Uh oh…
But this is what I get after years of polishing off plates of uneaten nuggets and fries. “Mom, have you called Jenny yet?” Damn.
So I gained a little weight. But when your kid tells you the Golden Gods of rock who are currently teetering on the brink of their golden years are showing you up in the agility department, it’s the kind of soul crushing stuff that prompts you to order a conciliatory pizza. It’s a vicious, ugly cycle and the last straw came when my favorite jeans split wide open as I bent down to retrieve a guitar pick.
Today I turned forty…blah, blah, blah…ish. Staring down the barrel of fifty, I feel eighteen and I’m hoping I’ve still got the moves when I’m closing in on seventy. Your mama’s still got it, kid, don’t you worry ‘bout that.
And right after I polish off this birthday cake, I’m putting you on the magic bus to school and heading to the gym in my quest to recapture my teenage waistband.
Music by The Who
Lyrics by Linda Roy
Out here on my street
All I do is eat
I get my back into Thanksgiving
A hoagie on white
A diet Sprite
I need jeans to be forgivin’
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Avert your eye
There’s no more teenage waistband
Jenny take my hand
‘Cross the promised land
Deflate my tire
And get the calorie counter
The evidence is here
It’s written on my rear
Let’s get together
Before I get much rounder
No more teenage waistband
They’re all waisted…
Linda Roy fronts the Indie Americana band Jehova Waitresses alongside her guitar toting husband. Remarkably, after years of this they still haven’t killed each other. They live in Jersey with their two boys (somebody’s gotta carry the amps) and she unleashes an inner Larry David on her blog Mod Mom Beyond IndieDom.