This is a true story.

It was a dark and stormy night.
Really.
I’ve waited years to be able to write that line.

Back in the late 90’s when I was working for Mayor Jeremy Harris, Bill Clinton flew into town.

Myself and a camera crew from the city’s Municipal TV came to get a some video for the “Thumbs Up” campaign.

Probably no one remembers it.
It really was a crappy idea that bombed.

But anyway, we joined up with Mayor Harris and President Clinton on the green after the Secret Service gave us a cavity search.

The idea was to give them a countdown and they were supposed to both give a big thumbs up and say, “Thumbs Up Hawaii!”

The whole thing was destined to be public service announcement.

We kept doing take after because the two of them couldn’t get into sync.
Then there were the fits of giggles.

A great time was being had by all and it was priceless video – but useless for the Thumbs Up campaign.

Suddenly the Governor slides up next to them to get in the shot.

Magic happened, pigs started flying and hell froze over as all three got it perfectly.

The only good take out of dozens and the Governor muscled into it.

The Mayor was not pleased.
He didn’t like the Governor.

They now shared the PSA forever.

By now it’s getting dark and President Clinton wants to play more golf.

So off he goes with the Mayor, a few others and dozens of Secret Service guys.

We tagged along for a bit but it’s getting too dark for any TV camera.

So, we pull up a seat on the fairway and watch these guys hitting the ball from the tee in the dark.

There are no lights on this golf course and it’s now pitch black.
Can’t see your hand in front of your face.

The Secret Service is spread out waiting to hear the ball go by and then one runs to where it lands and holds up a cigarette lighter so everyone can see where to go.

When they get there, another agent stands next to the flag and holds up his cigarette lighter to show them where to aim.

This goes on for quite a few holes.

Sadly, no pictures seem to exist of this wonderful day.

So, here’s a picture of a golf ball instead.
You’ll have to imagine the rest.

But it happened and very few knew about it.

Everyone had a grand time except the Mayor.

He was grumpy about the Governor sneaking into his TV thing.

Bonus: amuse yourself by guessing what song the headline came from.

My birthday arrived last weekend.
Quietly, which was exactly how I wanted it.

At my age that’s not something one goes around announcing, unless you think everyone would be surprised you’re still here.

I’ve now been telling people I’m 39 years old for thirty years.

I suspect it may be reaching the point no one believes me anymore no matter how youthful I may – or may not – look.

Probably “may not”.

I went to the Internet and looked up the names of celebrities that would be my age.
A large portion of the list were people who are dead.

That’s depressing although it’s proof that booze, sex and rock n’ roll doesn’t necessarily equal a long life.

Since I am an expert at being old I’d like to share this happy event and help you plan your life.

Here’s what you will have to look forward to when you get really old like me:

– Oldies stations consider the music you grew up with as too ancient to play.
You think it’s the best stuff ever.

I have a friend with a gazillion CD’s and he’s always paying music that goes back to the prehistoric age of rock.
His home sounds like a cross between a 1950’s radio station, New Orleans ’60s blues dive and Dick Clark’s American Bandstand.

He’s happy as a clam.

– Not matter what you think you see in the mirror, that’s not you.
Delusion is a wonderful thing, but after enough people call you “old” it stops working.

– You’ll look for “sensible” and “comfortable” clothes when shopping.
Bonus if they are both “roomy” and “flattering”, which we know is impossible.

– Your favorite foods will now wreak havoc on your insides.
The current trend in fast food to spicy-as-hell is sure death.

– Hangovers will destroy you.
First you think you’re dying, then you think you died and now you’re dead.

– Quiet never sounded so good.

– Your back will hurt for no damn reason.
Same goes for your feet.

– Your clothes aren’t the only thing with wrinkles.

But nature has a wonderful way of making whatever age you’re at seemingly okay.

You should welcome old age, especially when you think of the people who never had a chance to get there.

I’ve learned the best way to deal with old age is to ignore it.
And that includes birthday parties.

So this year the wife cooked at home for the brood.

It was sort of the usual every other Saturday family dinner thing except there’s a birthday cake there.

With so many candles one has to turn off the fire alarm before lighting them.

And forget blowing them out in a single breath.

The best thing to do is smother it with something big and fireproof.

I’m 69.
Mixed feelings about that number.

The whole thing makes me grumpy.

In a fit of boredom a couple of nights ago I Googled myself.

I wasn’t looking for me – I was looking for all those imposters who are using my name.

Most of them are female, which gives great credibility to my scientific theory that women the world over loved me so much they named their daughters after me.

That’s how Courtney Harrington became a lady’s name and I get lots of junk mail addressed to “Ms.”

I am honored.
Truly.

Here are a selected few just from LinkedIn.

One Courtney Harrington is a seasonal cashier at Mt. Rose Ski Tahoe.
I suspect that means she only works when there’s snow.

No word on what she does the rest of the time.
If she’s like me she naps a lot.

Then there is the lady Courtney Harrington who lists herself as an ice cream artist at Cold stone Creamery somewhere in the mainland.

She describes her job as singing, cake decorating, cake building, ice cream making, interacting with people, tolerance, cashier skills, fast pace work, good problem solving, leadership skills, critical thinking, optimistic attitude, respect, singing in public.

I think I like her.
We need more tolerant people.

I also like this lady with my name who is the owner of Boulevard Pawn in North Carolina.

Maybe she’ll loan me some money.

I’m not exactly what the good doctor she works for does, but another Courtney Harrington is the personal assistant to Robert Bulger, MD of the Southwest Pain Group. Her job description: Manage personal finances, coordinate various contractors and service providers, arrange business and personal travel and associated expenses, act as a liaison between attorneys and physician, review, organize and build timelines for med-mal defense work, event planning, courier, chauffeur, personal shopping, errand girl.

I don’t think I’ve heard the term “errand girl” in twenty years.

Then, I wonder why this Courtney Harrington never tried to recruit me.
After all, she’s the Recruitment Manager at Executive Recruiting.

Psst, call me.
Then we can go to a cocktail party together and never know who is talking to which one of us.
Great fun.

From the city where Apple comes from, we have a Yoga Instructor and RN named after me.

Ladies like that scare me because they are in better condition than I am.

By far my favorite is a Courtney Harrington who is an Autopsy Technician in the Hillsborough County Medical Examiner’s Office.

You have to love how she describes her job: I log in and process incoming bodies through photos, finger printing, and cataloging of personal items. I assist our Forensic Pathologist prior to the autopsy and during by setting up the proper equipment and aiding in the collection of specimens and the retrieval of the brain.

I want to meet her…preferably while alive.