Even Roots Change

It is my 59th birthday today. The first thing I did this morning, other than the treadmill, was listen to the youtube video of my daughter singing a song she wrote for me, "Even Roots Change". It has one of my favorite lyrics. Goes something like this, "Even roots change, Even roots grow. Even skyscrapers sway when the wind blows." There it is. Even freaking skyscrapers move when the wind blows!

It conjures up images of swaying skyscrapers, smiling statues, and flowing rivers. No, skyscrapers dancing slightly off beat, like a nerdy white boy, to Dylan's "The Times They Are A Changin".  Snapping their fingers trying to look cool to impress the female skyscrapers even though deep down in their basements they are self conscious of the fact that they are swaying in the wind and not steadfast and frozen like their fathers before them.

The song is my pick-me-upper. It inspires me and encourages me to face the hero quest before me. In the last year of my fifties, I go forth ready to rumble, Achilles like (if you can imagine a old wrinkled up gray haired Greek super hero, if not, scratch that and think of a fatter version of Don Quixote), ready to joust with the shades of death, ex-wives, memories, and paper hangers. 

Go Dogs!