sabine

this is a tribute to free spirited old men.

you know who i'm talking about. unkempt possibly bushy white hair, what's left of it...why worry with it now. thin. glasses. maybe toting a mysterious black bag. somewhat resembling regular old men...only somehow they're not old at all. it's not just that they dont give a damn that they're getting "old." there's some kind of spark there, something you would imagine the beat poets possessing, for instance. it's his eyes that you really notice. observant, amused, but not condescending. and there's almost always a smile, or more likely a smirk. but not exactly a smirk, at least not of the smart ass annoying variety. it's more a look, and an attitude that tells you yeah, i've been there. and i'm still not jaded.

you might know these men by a few comments exchanged in an elevator.

or if you're lucky you will have the chance to learn from one.

i had a class last year called writing on american radical thought. the professor was just as you'd imagine him. the epitome of the free spirited old man. he had an enthusiasm...no, passion, for the subject that is unmatched in any other teacher i've had. you had the feeling every day that there was so much more you could learn from the man, and be bettered by it. he must have been pushing 70, but here he was every day, doing what he loved. there was something about the way just one piece of his hair would always stick up so nonchalantly that was...refreshing. and the fact that people like him exist made me smile.

and it still makes me smile to think about, and figure maybe i shouldn't be so scared of getting "old." if you can still have that sense of wonder in life, that's what matters.