Gray Pride...

Although I've yet to achieve a full head of silver, I am beginning to realize that my notions on aging have begun to change. This seems to be happening in conjunction with the graying behind my temples and the gradually more frequent discovery of rogue, white strands hiding in my beard.

Somehow, it has become a part of my perception of aging that going gray is something to dread. That perspective may be rooted in childhood memories of my parents faces and the locks of family friends, having watched these people I literally looked up to begin to dimly glow from their heads even after dusk. Now, I'd say if one's mop transforms itself into a shimmer-in-the-dark type of bird's nest, then so it goes. That's how you'll know you've lived through struggle or simply walked through a less-than carefree life.

Unfortunately, I've lost most of my hair already, and the little I have left is starting to tell the tale of my past without any utterance on my part. Soon the salt will begin to win its battle with the pepper and that will be it! Maybe I don't fear this transition because of my early fondness for the comedy of Steve Martin or my juvenile attraction to a friend's buxom mother who began consistently frosting her hair at the first notice of a gray.

At its heart, I think the general "dismay at gray" for most comes not from the change in our superficial identity but the indication that the rest of the physiology stands on the edge of some wicked kind of tumble, an unstoppable, end-over-end plunge into a geriatric abyss with no hope of escape except by means of death.

It might be best to look to those who we regard to have aged gracefully - Paul Newman, for me, is one. He and Helen Mirren would make a lovely elderly couple, playing shuffleboard in slow motion, feathery, flickering locks waving in the breeze. For now, I'll choose to relish the debut of each new player in the drama between darkness and light that unfolds, daily and irreversibly, on my head.

The Devil's Rain

Long ago, I read somewhere that when it rains in full sunshine, it's called the 'Devil's Rain'. Somehow the elements of the name seem contradictory: the sun being positive and hopeful and the rain, a typically dreary part of life. Personally, I seem to see rain as a life-giving element for our garden and the all of Earth's gardens. Too much rain, of course, leads to disaster, failed crops, disease, and misery. Not enough yields just the same.


As for today's so called 'Devil's Rain', I'd say it was exemplary. The droplets were rotund divebombers, smashing the pavement outside the building with all the force that terminal velocity could provide. The backsplashing of each crashing drop gave off its own crown-shaped ringlet of resonance, dimpling the puddles and sending tiny waves in all directions. The sun shined throughout, giving the whole shower an eerie, vibrant quality. Just as quickly as it whipped up, pushed here by the residual energy of a lingering tropical storm, it was over.

The True Originals at Improv Everywhere...

If you've never heard of Improv Everywhere, you'll be pleasantly surprised and amused after a visit to their extensive site full of links to ingenious & creative social projects
(some would came them 'pranks'). These folks incorporate modern technology, social networking, and group dynamics to engineer some very unique and entertaining 'events' mostly in urban areas around the U.S. All of the content is better to see than to read about, clearly, so it's a must to check out their site at http://improveverywhere.com/ . Enjoy the evidence that in the masses, there is plenty of room for fun and infinite power for change.

Some of my favorite participatory works are:

Slo-Mo Home Depot
Sychronized Swimming in Washington Square Park
Cellphone Symphony
No Pants 2K6

Check these out; you'll surely smile!