Hallelujah...

Once every thirty-eight years poet/writer/singer Leonard Cohen comes to my city.  He says he doesn't want to make a "pest" of himself.  It's pretty safe to say I just saw him for the last time.  He's in his mid to late 70's and if you add 38 more years before the next concert, we're both dead.

I was born and raised on the east coast. Living in close proximity to Manhattan gave me incredible access to
t he arts.  I discovered Leonard quite a while ago and then caught him again in the late 60's at  the Newport Jazz festival.  I never forgot him. I buy his music.And I no longer wonder if he's dead each time he retreats to a monastery.  Don't all Jewish men do that?

I must have harbored a low opinion of my fellow Milwaukeans prior to this concert.  I was concerned that not enough people would buy tickets (like this was my problem?)  But the place was packed. The age range spanned older teens to frail elderly.  (Am I still an east coast snob? I found myself wondering) I did a lot of crowd-watching - being especially drawn to women with grey, white or silver hair.  Why? Because I hate my  grey/silver/black hair and I wanted to see how other women pulled it off.

AS one might expect at a Cohen gathering, there were the requisite long haired-hippie/beatnik types.  They looked old and washed out (which is how I feel even though I get a $55 haircut from a really cool stylist every 10 weeks). They wore long granny skirts and - if it hadn't been snowy outside - would probably have sported Birkenstocks. But a lot of the women were simply lovely.  How do they do that?  They seemed comfortable with their aged locks...dressed well...and obviously were making a statement about being comfortable with this aging thing.  I need to figure out how to be like them and yet still be me.

"She probably puts a toner in her hair," I remarked to my husband (who is quite tired on my whining about my hair).  ":If I could use a toner maybe my hair would be nice like that." He said nothing. He gave up a long time ago. I kept it up until they flashed the lights to return to our seats..

 I am inconsolable about this hair thing.  At least I HAVE hair.

I am impossible. Really. Time to get over it.

Do you think that monastery would let me in for awhile??? I need to meditate and contemplate my bad attitude.

or buy a wig.

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