I have to admit, turning sixty was a bit surreal, even though I was in great shape, took care of myself, and could pass for way younger. Still, time seemed to be passing at an astonishing rate lately. Life was good, though. I had a very successful career in real estate in one of the hottest markets during a golden time in property appreciation. Because of that, I was able to retire in my fifties and live off investments and the rental property I owned. I had been married and divorced three times, but managed to rebuild my bank account after each ex-wife took her pound of flesh. I never had children, and that helped me stay solvent. I was one lucky SOB!

I had come a long way since the eighties, when I played guitar and sang in a fairly notorious OC hardcore punk band with a pretty healthy following. We kind of bridged the gap between the original Ramones/Sex Pistols old-school punk and the Seattle Nirvana-style grunge, which was coming up right around the corner. We were little snot-nosed, flying A anarchists who didn’t really have a clue what we were rebelling against, but we were having fun and had some wild times doing it. Green Day finally breaking huge in the nineties pretty much ended it for organic, street-level punk rock. Hey, God bless them, we all wanted to be naked, rich, and famous at the end of the day, too! For years after that, people would still come up to me remembering who I was, which was always fun. That eventually petered out, but the internet and YouTube kind of rebooted the band, and I would still occasionally be hunted down by a fan from that time and genre of music.

Ever since the COVID pandemic a few years back, I have gotten into the habit of ordering my groceries online and picking them up. It really is easier than running around the store and dealing with the oil slick of humanity stumbling around the aisles. I religiously pick up my groceries every Sunday morning at eight AM. One of my loaders was a cute little girl named Jenny. She looked like a punk rocker, with bright blue hair, piercings, and a pretty good collection of tattoos. I was always amazed at how that punk look from fifty years ago survived with today’s kids. It seems to have even come back a little stronger lately. Jenny was very fashionably cool and indifferent at first during my pick-ups, but she started to warm up a little as I joked around with her. I even gave her a compliment on what a great look she had, being careful not to come across too much as a dirty old man. I even sometimes forget that I am not in my twenties anymore. I always gave Jenny a good online review, and she appreciated that. They do get read and reviewed, evidently. Jenny really rocked that punk-rock girl appeal.

One day, I noticed Jenny wearing a Siouxsie and the Banshees T-shirt poking through under her blue Walmart vest. I was amazed kids her age even knew about Siouxsie, much less wore her T-shirt. That was followed up in the coming weeks with T-shirts featuring Black Flag, The Circle Jerks, Agent Orange, and a few other seminal LA hardcore bands from the seventies and eighties, people I had known and shared stages with. Jenny was hitting close to home now! Then it happened. One day, Jenny came out with a fresh tee featuring the band I was in, which shall remain nameless to protect against any collateral damage from this being posted on an erotic writing site. After being blown away by that, my next thought was: who was printing these shirts and making money off them? In my band’s case, I assumed it was academic at best. I could not imagine our name would have moved much product. We were definitely a third-tier band and hung it up earlier than our peers did. Hey, it was still mind-blowing to see!