For one glorious summer back when I was young and (sort of) strong, I hitchhiked my way across Europe with only a pair of cowboy boots, a backpack, some Navy-surplus bell-bottom jeans, a red tank top and five tabs of LSD to keep me happy. Money meant nothing to me back then.
But now it does.
I just got back from speaking at a book convention in Reno, Nevada. The flight home was only 40 minutes long but even that was exhausting. The whole freaking trip was exhausting.
If only my bank account had been phat enough to allow me to stay at a quiet motel, eat healthy food and hire a porter to lug around my suitcase containing 47 pounds of free books, I would have been in much better shape when I got home.
Ah, home — where I know how to scrounge and can more easily find cheap ways to eat organic food and grass-fed meat because they are far healthier, give me an edge on the aging game and help me to live longer.
Home — where my adult children aren’t particularly fond of me right now, apparently because I am currently old, broke and a liability. Kicked to the curb on the flimsiest of pretexts. Can’t afford to dress to impress. Don’t have a high-paying job because I’m no longer young and (sort of) strong. Because they owed me money.
Home — where I can only afford a roof over my head because I’ve lived in the same apartment for the last 40 years and my rent is still low. And having a roof over one’s head becomes more and more crucial the older one gets.
Home — where thank goodness I have MediCare because if I didn’t, I’d be dead. And where I receive Social Security. For now. Seems to me like everybody wants to take away our Social Security and MediCare so that we baby boomers will die faster and stop clogging up the nursing homes. Everyone from Donald Trump to Fox News wants us out of the way. Might as well put a gun to our heads and get it over with — like they do in Parkland and the Middle East.
Home — where I can play grocery bingo at the senior center and hunt for bargains at the Berkeley Bowl and get all my fashion designs at Goodwill.
Money clearly does matter more to me now than it did way back when. Money keeps body and soul together these days. Money keeps me alive. Without it, I’d be dead a lot sooner than I would be if I was still young.
It’s just not like the old days at all, back when I wasn’t so fragile and could just live like Jack Kerouac — on the road.
PS: But even so, even at this age, I still have grandiose career ambitions and dreams. Sooner or later, someone in Hollywood is going to do a re-make of “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane” — and when they do, please please please cast me in the Bette Davis role! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qFYjkFCxiE
