I always thought that I would know
When it was time to quit
That when I lost a step or two or three or four or five
I'd notice it
Now that I've arrived here safely
I find my talent is gone
Why do I go on and on and on and on and on
And on and on and on and on and on?
Randy Newman, "He's Dead"
You all know Pete Townshend, right? Leader of The Who, champion of the '60s Revolution, expositor of the Pop Art movement, hero of the counter-culture rebellion against authority, devoted spiritual follower of Meher Baba, writer of the album "The Who Sell Out" ridiculing commercialism. Yeah, that guy. Uh, he's charging $50 to join the Who web site, which allows you to read his blog postings. The web site gives you a choice of buying standard, normal, working class tickets to future "Who" concerts (and by the "Who" I mean the two Who members that aren't dead yet; bearing in mind Pete and Roger were playing in Vegas as the Who within days after John's death), or the deluxe "VIP" package.
How about Woody Allen? You know, Bananas, Annie Hall, Manhattan, Hannah and Her Sisters...his last movie was something called Cassandra's Dream.
Or maybe Bill Clinton? The Comeback Kid. Singlehanded leader of the Democratic Party revival. Landslide second term winner. Defeater of the Contract with America? Last we heard from that guy, he was trying to crash a Kiwanis Club pancake breakfast near the West Virgina-Pennsylvania border.
These guys, and a whole lot of others, need to apologize to their 30 years ago selves for becoming the overfed, inert, corpulent windbags they warned us all about (30 years ago).
Seems like, what with modern medicine making people live longer than they're supposed to and all, we are facing the increasing scourge of guys hanging around way past their "sell by" date. These guys are just like Wooderson in Dazed and Confused, who kept hanging around with high school girls even though he'd graduated the year before. From Dan Aykroyd, to Francis Ford Coppola, to George Lucas, to Sylvester Stallone, to 3/4 of the US Senate, there's just too many guys (and its mainly men) that just don't know when its time to leave the stage, buy a ranch or a Corvette, and shoot the TV set when Robert Goulet or Mel Torme come on.
For example, MSN.com just published a list of 10 musicians who need to stop playing music before they embarrass themselves any further. The list ranges from Joni Mitchell (who wrote the song "Woodstock"), now signed to Starbucks' in-house record label, to the Rolling Stones, who at this point look and sound more like a Stones cover band at the local nursing home.
This is something that affects musicians, actors, artists, and other prominent people, but it also afflicts people in less famous walks of life. I've encountered several once-great lawyers who've lost it, either from losing their energy or ability to focus, or through not changing with new ways of practicing more efficiently. I'm sure you've run across doctors, preachers, salesman, teachers, and many others, who need to call it a day.
This happens in different ways. Sometimes the times and styles change, and you don't or won't. Sometimes technology changes-a lawyer who can't use computers basically can't practice law now. Sometimes the economics of an entire industry change, such as in the recording industry, where merely signing to a label now no longer gives a musician any assurance of financial success, or when airline farecutting and computer ticket purchases basically drove travel agents out of business. Sometimes people just get tired of your shtick (signed, Mike Meyers).
Change is about the hardest thing to do, and it gets harder as you get older, and harder even still after you've mastered a pursuit only to find the techniques and skills that allowed you to succeed no longer work. The reluctance to change can cloud your vision and judgment, deluding you into thinking there's no need to change, I can do it like I've always done it. But like Austin Powers, or the proverbial old guy at the club, or your boss who never got the message that racial and sex jokes aren't quite as popular as they used to be, wishing won't make it be 1985 again. Which really is great, because 1985 was an extremely unfortunate time for music.
There's another explanation for some of this, which is guys hanging on for a payday. Industry is littered with these guys. Lots of this is legitimate, like the guy who's trying to hold on long enough to get his youngest daughter through college. Not the responsible one, but the one that got on sco-pro her second semester because she spent most of the first semester drunk with her boyfriend Ricky and driving around in his sweet El Camino, and is trying to get her grades back up at the local juco while working part time at the Home Depot. That guy I don't begrudge. But John Cleese, Dan Aykroyd, Kevin Costner...guys, its time. When your biggest role in years is the father of Shrek's girlfriend, its time to write your memoirs and let someone else have a chance.
Now, this is not some sort of ageist rant. Long ago I lost eligibility to be a member of the Austin Young Lawyers Association, so I'm not taking after anyone for adding more birthday candles. Plenty of example exist of people finding great success in later stages of their lives, like Clint Eastwood (who went from movie action hero to Oscar-winning director), Joe Gibbs (who moved from coaching in the NFL to building a successful auto racing company) or my first boss (who left his career as an attorney in his early 50s to become an Episcopal priest). No, this is a rant against the refusal to change or acknowledge the need to change, thereby tying up positions better held by someone with more energy and skill. Change is the only thing that makes life worthwhile throughout your whole life. If everything were exactly the same month after month and year after year, there's no point (unless you're a Victoria's Secret catalog photographer; I mean, c'mon). Change is the only way we renew ourselves, the only way we can continue to contribute.
The problem is when you lose your fastball, you lose it in a hurry and usually you're the last one to know. Unfortunately your closest friends usually won't tell you. There's a story about Clark Gable, once the most desired man in the world, propositioning a hotel maid in the late 50s. She said she would charge him, and he replied, "I thought you'd want to, just to say you had." Better to hear it from your friends, I think. But that's not going to happen, so I propose that everyone should get a life clock in their palm, like in Logan's Run. When it starts flickering, you're on notice that you better ramp up. If it goes black, then you either need to renew or head for Sanctuary.
Shoot out the TV screen when you get there.
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