Recently I’ve found myself extremely disappointed, saddened and angry even, at a couple of my so called friends. 2 people I have known for over 15 years a piece. 2 people I thought were good friends of mine, but due to their actions (or specifically inaction) have made me feel sad and rejected.

One person specifically, who’s erratic behaviour I have defended over the years….. Oh the delicious irony.

Known him since 92, been through a lot. We found one another in midtown Manhattan and went through the horrors of 9/11 together as I was homeless due to the attacks.  This person whom I last saw with his fiance, at my house in December over 2 evenings, drinking, making merry, eating dinner together. Breaking bread. So what exactly did this guy do I hear you ask?

This person didn’t tell me he was getting married. Not a Vegas sneak away, but a large, planned ceremony, with guests in Napa. No message of any type that he was getting married.  I found out after many mutual friends asked me if “I was going to the wedding?” “What about him getting married? Would never have thought it, after all these years!”

What did I do to deserve this? It’s as if I committed some mortal sin against him. Something that I truly cannot fathom after racking my brains to think of any transgression or insult I could be accused of. It’s not that I didn’t get invited when others did, it’s that he didn’t tell me he was getting married. In fact I haven’t heard 1 word from him since that December evening. It’s as if he couldn’t be bothered.

It really bothers me that I can’t just shrug my shoulders and move on. Accept that this is life. This guy was my friend. I thought he was my best friend. How could I be so blind I keep asking myself. Surely he couldn’t have just, forgotten to tell me? Nah, I don’t think so.

It must have been a deliberate, conscious act. And that hurt me.

So it matters. If it didn’t matter, then I suppose it wasn’t a real friendship. From my side at least.  I will be fine, I am secure. My faith in me and what is important in life is solid. I will continue to nuture those friends of mine, but a little piece of me is bitter, and sad, and frustrated. And I hate that feeling, but it’s one that just won’t go away, for now anyway.

After my harrowing “how can you not have heard of Leonard Cohen, therefore I must be getting old episode,” been thinking more about the subject of getting older. Our society increasingly celebrates and rewards youth and beauty over experience and wisdom.

Odd thing is I don’t feel older, don’t have an aged frame of mind, but the getting older part seems to manifest itself indirectly.

For instance, developing my inner curmudgeon.

I have far less tolerance for crowds, lines, and loud, rude people. That makes me feel old. I don’t get out to as many shows these days, disappointed and annoyed with a large part of the crowd who are there to be seen. Or are too busy gossiping to their friends, taking each other photos with their device of choice, than actually listen to the band. For that matter showing a horrible lack of respect for the band, the artistes that feed and nourish our souls, and the rest of the audience there to hear them.

Is it all about the iGeneration and their iLives? Is this what it has come down to? Take my pix at Antones with Joey Burns singing in the background and fuck the rest of you trying to listen?

I don’t feel the same nagging sense of missing out on something that I’m not a part of. I like to stay home more, cook, laugh, listen and love with Kim. Stay in our sanctuary if you will. It’s strange, but I suspect these are symptoms of getting older.

Staying in the city does not make a person younger. Going to clubs and shows and parties does not make a person younger. Those things give us the illusion of time standing still, which it doesn’t. I think when we give in to our ages, where we are in step with time, rewards follow in different ways. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

A couple of colleagues at work brought it home to me in a big way. They’re both younger than me, estimate 30 ish’, smart/worldly people, I got to talking to them about the upcoming Leonard Cohen show here in Austin.

Both of them said Leonard who? I thought they were joking, alas, they were not. Never heard of Leonard Cohen, or any of his songs. Not a clue.

At first I was dumbfounded, shocked actually, and then it hit me. I’m older than I think I am and the generational divide, that I’ve mostly managed to hold at bay, burst through. I guess I thought everyone knew who Leonard Cohen is. Just took it for granted. One of the soundtracks to my life, is well, just that. A soundtrack to my life, no-one else’s.

Now I know better, and my aging, and my feeling older, has been thrust uncomfortably down my throat. For me to ponder.

I better get used to it.

Maybe it’s because most of the physical mail most of us receive are bills or unwanted direct mail solicitations, now 2009 is upon us and the festive period is fading into black, as I packed away the xmas cards I received in the mail, the tactile experience of fingering the cards and reading the messages, sent a little shiver down my spine.

It’s comforting to know that someone cared (enough) to buy a card, write out a message, buy stamps and actually then take it to a post-box or post office and mail it. In today’s hectic, wired world, where no-one seems to have enough time for anyone else anymore, or has the attention span of a nano-second, for me, that small gesture speaks volumes.

Actions do indeed speak louder than words.