The Last Babyboomer in America -- seeking representation
Chapter 1
Curt Gowdy State Park, Wyoming, July 1
Today is Daniel O’Brien’s seventieth birthday. He is not celebrating the day. He has nothing about which to celebrate; only this rickety wooden stage on which he stands and the straggly, uninterested bluegrass crowd periodically swaying to his music, drinking their beer, and chewing on their deep-fried funnel cakes. A shadowy thunderstorm swells over the Cheyenne ridge. The western sky slowly churns into a raging mix of black, gray, and blue turbulence. He’ll be soaked by the next set. Rain, snow, creditors, ex-wife, life, the universe—everyone is out to soak Daniel O’Brien. Seventy years old. How did that happen? He gazes over the muddy field, recalls his twentieth birthday—a muddy, mucky field in Da Nang Air Base…Whoops! A little of his keyboard needed here. Better pay attention, O’Brien, birthday, or no birthday.
Mandolin Mickey starts on Loose Change. The air becomes thick, dark, and chilly. The bluegrass crowd wanders toward the beer stand over by the rodeo chute, the merchandise tent next to the parking field; to the trailer selling barbequed turkey legs, or the tent for Jack Daniels straight, any spot that might protect them from the approaching high plains storm. A chilling breeze, hard drops of scattering rain, flashes of cloud-to-cloud lightning; omens for a guy who soullessly prays to the universe for deliverance, carries a four-leaf clover in his wallet, the buffalo nickel he stole from his sister before she died in his pocket…and now his feckin’ birthday. Even Daniel O’Brien, family-less, friendless, and fanless yearns for a better place to land his long life than a rodeo field ten miles west of Cheyenne, Wyoming, …and a disturbingly black SUV creeping through the bluegrass crowd.
With only a few stragglers left, Freddie and his fiddle start the lead-in for River Too Soon. Daniel tries to remember where he parked his ’73 blue Volvo. Truth is Daniel O’Brien owes, literally, millions of dollars. He’s got a court order. He’s got bill collectors on his ass. He’s got the government after tax-deferred non-payments. He’s in a thirty-year child support lawsuit…The dark murky SUV inches through the crowd.
“Hey, O’Brien, you just screwed up on River Too Soon,” Mickey, the mandolin king, shouts.
Daniel waves him off. The sky blackens; patters of rain hit his face. Easy flashes of memory flit before him, birthday-like—the stadiums, lit candles, the crowds, the screaming fans; his youth, his post-punk existential rock band. He shakes the memories, sends them back to the hippocampus where they remain tucked and dry. Daniel scrutinizes the position of the SUV.
“When you going to get it right, boomer?” Mickey shouts.
“When the last clown leaves the stage. When the fat lady sings. When I get the hell out of bluegrass. When you stop calling me a boomer.” Daniel surveys the coming storm, the approaching SUV. He throws up his hands. “Incoming electrocution, guys. I’m out of here.”
Rumbling thunder goads the gods. The SUV stops at the stage. That’s it. Daniel closes his keyboard, tosses a blue tarp over it. He backs to the edge and takes a flying leap. Clouds burst open. Rain shoots down like surges of memories lost and gone. Daniel wipes his face, slicks back his wet ponytail, and sloshes through the rushing river of mud, appreciative of his youth spent sprinting, thankful for his long lanky build, gray and aging though it be….
*************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Vietnam Veteran, married, divorced, and broke; no retirement, fear of aging, and bored. On his seventieth birthday, Daniel O'Brien finds himself friendless, family-less, and fanless. What is worse, he’s relegated to playing keyboard for an obscure bluegrass band. During a rained-out concert in Cheyenne, Daniel gets an offer he can’t refuse—gather up his 1990s post-punk existential rock band, The Andies, and play upfront for the political campaign of Governor Barbara Ryan. Daniel ignores the fact that his youthful affair with Barbara Ryan broke up his band, his marriage, and his life. He gathers up the reluctant and resentful band members which includes his ex-wife, and with their magical thinking intact, they hit the road with the Ryan Campaign.
The result is an American-style search for meaningful participation in adult life, the need to overcome life-long self-inflicted failures and confront undefined loneliness and fear of commitment. Daniel O’Brien and his buddies exemplify the struggle in the quest for a good place to land our lives.
Curt Gowdy State Park, Wyoming, July 1
Today is Daniel O’Brien’s seventieth birthday. He is not celebrating the day. He has nothing about which to celebrate; only this rickety wooden stage on which he stands and the straggly, uninterested bluegrass crowd periodically swaying to his music, drinking their beer, and chewing on their deep-fried funnel cakes. A shadowy thunderstorm swells over the Cheyenne ridge. The western sky slowly churns into a raging mix of black, gray, and blue turbulence. He’ll be soaked by the next set. Rain, snow, creditors, ex-wife, life, the universe—everyone is out to soak Daniel O’Brien. Seventy years old. How did that happen? He gazes over the muddy field, recalls his twentieth birthday—a muddy, mucky field in Da Nang Air Base…Whoops! A little of his keyboard needed here. Better pay attention, O’Brien, birthday, or no birthday.
Mandolin Mickey starts on Loose Change. The air becomes thick, dark, and chilly. The bluegrass crowd wanders toward the beer stand over by the rodeo chute, the merchandise tent next to the parking field; to the trailer selling barbequed turkey legs, or the tent for Jack Daniels straight, any spot that might protect them from the approaching high plains storm. A chilling breeze, hard drops of scattering rain, flashes of cloud-to-cloud lightning; omens for a guy who soullessly prays to the universe for deliverance, carries a four-leaf clover in his wallet, the buffalo nickel he stole from his sister before she died in his pocket…and now his feckin’ birthday. Even Daniel O’Brien, family-less, friendless, and fanless yearns for a better place to land his long life than a rodeo field ten miles west of Cheyenne, Wyoming, …and a disturbingly black SUV creeping through the bluegrass crowd.
With only a few stragglers left, Freddie and his fiddle start the lead-in for River Too Soon. Daniel tries to remember where he parked his ’73 blue Volvo. Truth is Daniel O’Brien owes, literally, millions of dollars. He’s got a court order. He’s got bill collectors on his ass. He’s got the government after tax-deferred non-payments. He’s in a thirty-year child support lawsuit…The dark murky SUV inches through the crowd.
“Hey, O’Brien, you just screwed up on River Too Soon,” Mickey, the mandolin king, shouts.
Daniel waves him off. The sky blackens; patters of rain hit his face. Easy flashes of memory flit before him, birthday-like—the stadiums, lit candles, the crowds, the screaming fans; his youth, his post-punk existential rock band. He shakes the memories, sends them back to the hippocampus where they remain tucked and dry. Daniel scrutinizes the position of the SUV.
“When you going to get it right, boomer?” Mickey shouts.
“When the last clown leaves the stage. When the fat lady sings. When I get the hell out of bluegrass. When you stop calling me a boomer.” Daniel surveys the coming storm, the approaching SUV. He throws up his hands. “Incoming electrocution, guys. I’m out of here.”
Rumbling thunder goads the gods. The SUV stops at the stage. That’s it. Daniel closes his keyboard, tosses a blue tarp over it. He backs to the edge and takes a flying leap. Clouds burst open. Rain shoots down like surges of memories lost and gone. Daniel wipes his face, slicks back his wet ponytail, and sloshes through the rushing river of mud, appreciative of his youth spent sprinting, thankful for his long lanky build, gray and aging though it be….
*************************************************************************************************************************************************************
Vietnam Veteran, married, divorced, and broke; no retirement, fear of aging, and bored. On his seventieth birthday, Daniel O'Brien finds himself friendless, family-less, and fanless. What is worse, he’s relegated to playing keyboard for an obscure bluegrass band. During a rained-out concert in Cheyenne, Daniel gets an offer he can’t refuse—gather up his 1990s post-punk existential rock band, The Andies, and play upfront for the political campaign of Governor Barbara Ryan. Daniel ignores the fact that his youthful affair with Barbara Ryan broke up his band, his marriage, and his life. He gathers up the reluctant and resentful band members which includes his ex-wife, and with their magical thinking intact, they hit the road with the Ryan Campaign.
The result is an American-style search for meaningful participation in adult life, the need to overcome life-long self-inflicted failures and confront undefined loneliness and fear of commitment. Daniel O’Brien and his buddies exemplify the struggle in the quest for a good place to land our lives.