“What’s Next?” (Crossroads of a Middle-Aged Man)

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These Blogs are “my truths!” I stake no logistical claims, nor research to support my opinions and experiences.

This Memoir is NOT intended for “everyone!”

Photo by A. Chederros @Gettyimages.com

At 52 years old, I have often fantasized, over the past several years, of spending my days aimlessly roaming a Caribbean beach, while smoking a fine cigar. Enjoying the calm, warm breezes, and magnificent ocean views. I have even said it in my act, many times out loud on stage, as I lunged into my mindset regarding my life’s events — a Set-Up such as, “so much has happened to me that I am at a point in my life where I just want to …”

I have been a sweet and mischievous little boy, playing with friends, countless hours spent alone with only my imagination, and colored by my home environment, though not quite understanding it. I have been a “Punk kid,” in his early teens, pushing the limits of fear, rules, and discipline, trying on different personalities and styles to fit in or be noticed. I have been cocky, in my upper teens, in sync with the times, and confident in myself beyond reason. I have been a young man, with charted and unwavering plans and dreams. A loving husband (though contradictions exist) and a young (joyous and fortunate) parent raising his own children, learning every day, and adapting all the time, to this newest chapter in my history, that for once, did not involve only Self.

Now, my children are almost ready to take on the world, post-college. My marriage has (unfortunately) seen its best days! I am sure that I DO NOT wish to be the “creepy old guy”, hanging out in bars, with his shirt buttons undone to reveal his giant gold Crucifix, as he attempts to hit on younger women. I most definitely do not have the money that it takes to pick up and start over elsewhere (barring running away, in abandonment, from all responsibilities with only enough cash to last a month or two). My mind is still alive with youth, despite my aching parts, and looming awareness of the impending end! So, “what’s next,” for people like US, who are not alone but feeling lonely? Who are not satisfied with a “same shit — different day,” mentality? Those who are not ready to surrender themselves to Netflix only nights, and the simple pleasures of our favorite dessert, only to repeat this Groundhog Day existence, until we roll over and die?

In a way, much of my memoirs/essays/blogs to date, seem to have had undertones leading up to this one! Where a tremendous number of memories, history, knowledge, and wisdom, have created who I am today. However, “who we are today,” may just not be satisfied inside anymore, with those latter milestones, and is longing … ready … for more! Try, as we unsettled dreamers do, to see into the future, we cannot clearly envision the next chapter that will realistically bring us the happiness we so desire — that which is within our grasp. I always have more than a few irons in the fire, and they are terrific — hot even! However, though our minds may be percolating constantly, our deeper, hidden passion, is to simply stop trying so hard!

1988 Pastels nightclub, Bay Ridge Brooklyn

“One more shot” I shouted along with the record, as the DJ spun an exhilarating mix. Drenched in sweat, my once dry, new, and intentionally bloused, blue silk shirt, is now unbuttoned and untucked, revealing my thin-tan physique. I grab her hand, taking her from the mimed sex we just had on the dance floor, over to the bar. It is not much quieter there. “What’s your name?” I shout into a mouthful of hair spray cemented hair, which covers her ear. It did not matter what the answer was, I just wanted the bartender’s attention to get us both high quickly and out to the Rolling Motel! “Johnny Black rocks and …” pointing to her, she shouts, “Sex on the Beach.” [Clink] “To new friends.” The song, Babe we’re gonna love tonight, by Lime, comes on. “HOOO,” I shout, then down the Scotch, “this is my song,” I bellow, as I squeeze my conquests hand, and hurry us back down the steps, to the floor.

My iPhone is playing a classic disco Shuffle, as I stand before the mirror trimming my nose hairs, in my present-day New Jersey home bathroom. I shut the hair buzzer and acknowledge, “those times were great…but that was then!” This is not my first Rodeo of staring blindly into the future. I start my usual — never quieting — inner dialogue. “I would love to take my wife out dancing at some flashback disco night. That will never happen,” I resolve. “First of all, we’re still in a Pandemic state, and even if we weren’t, sadly I don’t see that as a possibility anymore.” I look at myself in the mirror and the image looks back at me and asks, “so what’s next Joe?” Aside from also plucking my ear hairs today? Beyond my never-ending “To-do” agenda? In lieu of my ongoing “Try This,” to be productive, happy, and successful, wish list? What am I going to do with the rest of my life — and finally for myself again — now?

I have many friends that are financially secure. I know of lots of people who have found peace in their relationship and that is all they need, and still, others who are just floating about the relationship universe, whether satisfied or miserable with that station in life. The thing that plagues me in this Middle Age conundrum is, “am I alone in facing/feeling this?” I can’t … I cannot … be alone! But what are the alternatives (ruling out Sky Diving) and how and when do you pull that proverbial trigger and begin your quest?

My queries may be rhetorical, but the questions that will arise after publishing this (perhaps from family) will be real. To those, I answer in advance, with the words my father used to say, “I speak what’s in my belly!” To that end, as a writer, I pride myself on having truly little filters but quite large balls, that others only display in private silence!

I can sit and watch my children’s lives unfurl like I would my favorite films. Enamored by every accomplishment, from the most minute to the grandest ones, which also pleases them. I could forever be there to walk behind them and catch them if they fall. But would any of this be fair to the growth of either of us? Of course, I will ALWAYS be there for them (whether physically or emotionally) and I am so eager to watch what is to come. BUT, as they instruct in an airplane, in the event of a loss of cabin pressure, the parent must put their mask on first! After all, what use would we be to our children, if we were not breathing? The cliché metaphor is universal and well known. The bottom line is — you only stand to better others, when you are in a good place…spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically, yourself!

During the weeks prior to drafting this, I found myself on a Thursday (Holy Thursday, for my devout Catholics) in Atlantic City, New Jersey, in the afternoon, for my first Covid-19 injection and then later that evening in Staten Island, New York, for a dinner with some of my sisters. “As I drove on the Atlantic City Expressway, towards the hotel-casinos, I felt the disconnect. Upon your approach, as the high rises appear larger and prettier as you draw nearer, the anticipation naturally grows. Having a mental catalog of history in those lavish buildings, that involved family, friends, and performances, each time I approached in the past, I could always feel the excitement building, and the connection to those memories, well up in me. This time, it felt like someplace so far away from me. A time that I was aware of, but the film-like imagery and senses recollection were lacking. It was now, more a feeling of, “did it all really happen?”

Later, my visit to the tiny borough in New York … my Old Stomping Grounds, as it were … was ripe with an even stronger realization. I had always likened going back to Staten Island, as putting on your favorite pair of jeans. It was familiar and comfortable. In true character, I teased everyone at dinner, which is easy pickings for me, given my sarcastic quick wit and my family’s way offbeat personalities. In short, one sister is married to her minute-by-minute agenda, another is typically “one step behind the conversation, 😉”, and the star of our gala will certainly say many outlandish things throughout the meal to us, as well as strangers, causing awkward moments that I can comedically monopolize on. It was fun to be the family Roaster again, after so much time and separation, but it was cerebral and not visceral. Instead of wanting the evening to linger, as in years gone by, holding onto the bond, we had for each other, that only we understood, I felt the need (and this has been happening with previous encounters) to leave right away and move onto something else. It was not their fault, nor was I clear on what it was that I was rushing to!

When we all exited, a fast-moving small car turned the corner and came dangerously close to two of my sisters and my nephew. They shouted at the driver, who stopped a few yards up the street, and the young, obviously disrespectful man-child, opened his door and shouted back, “what’s the problem?” [Welcome to Staten Island] Being further up the block and closest to the car, I walked quickly towards him answering stoically, “you were speeding!” To which he yelled back, “I was not!” Moving faster at him now, with intention, I firmly stated, “take it easy!” We both knew what was about to happen, including my sisters, now behind me, shouting my name and aware of this side of their brother, as this coward closed his door and sped away. Once in my car and making my way home, I reviewed the events of the day. There was a time where a stranger breaching such barriers of disrespect for my family or friends meant there would be a swift physical resolution. I ran through the emotions of my prior actions and realized that I approached this person by rote … but my committed intent was missing. Some part of me just did not deeply care about being the heroic brother. I then reflected on Atlantic City earlier that day and became aware of my current state of limbo. No longer, did having performed at those casinos, represent the highs of achieving a career goal, with that hint of bravado that accompanies it. I also felt that I was no longer that “tough kid” from New York. Rather, I was a man heading home to another day on the Habitrail Wheel, which is my life, of constant pursuit and responsibility. None of these skins seemed to be who I was anymore!

So, “what’s next?”

With Stand-Up Comedy basically “on hold”, because of the Coronavirus, I have been taking the time to write on a regular basis and explore potential assignments in the literary field. The writing is rewarding — however, another competitive career endeavor, in the arts, is extremely exhausting and uncertain. Getting back to comedy, as society slowly opens, feels like a stark Déjà vu (especially as thousands converge on the market at once) that I am not eager or willing to fight for. The never-ending politics, hunting for stages, work, and salaries. I believe in myself and my talents, unfortunately, success in these fields is hinged on feverish marketing and only ten percent ability. As I barrel forward, there is a voice in me that keeps repeating, “I’m tired!” I have run the route of throwing in the towel and working a “Job-Job” … and I am honest enough with myself to know that that is not an option on my road to happiness!

A Memoir is intended to be a journey, that typically ends in realization/growth. Well, I have realizations “every day” and I act on them. Roaming that white sand beach, in a Zen-like state, with my cigar in hand, remains a fantasy, and each new path that I excitedly embark on, almost daily, ultimately leads me in an emotional circle back to my starting point. Therefore, regretfully, and honestly, this story does not have an ending … YET! Perhaps, that I keep searching, shows an inspired initiative? Or is the lesson to STOP seeking, knowing that your past was rich, and your Utopia is already in you? If you, the reader, have learned nothing from my journal, but have appreciated the sentiment that you are not alone, as we stand side by side at the Crossroads of Middle Age, scratching our heads as we stare at all the divots before us, then let that be the Takeaway!