Mmm, aged and mellow!
There's nothing a greenhorn can do
for me
Cause my older daddy suits me to a T
Now I like my men like I like my
whiskey
Ooh, aged and mellow!
Now listen youngster, be on your way
Don't bother me til a later day
I like my men like I like my whiskey
Mmm, aged and mellow!
Junior may be young and strong, girl
But I'll take grandpa cause he's had
it longer
I like my men like I like my whiskey
Hah, aged and mellow!
I’m related to three old men. One has known me all my life. The other
two, I have known all their lives. Assuming we each left home at age 18, we
lived together 16 years, 17, and 12 years respectively, in the 1950s and 1960s.
Damn, that was a long time ago. And we have lived apart, and with spouses and
children longer since we were children together.
I’m very close to my sisters, but there’s something about a brother that
may be all the more precious for being not as intimate.
I love my brothers in the unconditional way you can only love in a close
and happy family, but with a kind of exhausting effort where you always feel
challenged to do your best – even when you’re tired and don’t want to be strong
any more.
With my sisters, there’s a kind of acceptance that would include opening
the door late one night to confront me holding a bloody knife and crying. No questions
asked – come in, drink this, stop crying.
Brothers ask and expect you to answer - even when all you want is to have a bubble
bath and a glass of 15-year-old Portuguese port. While brothers may not argue about the bubble bath, but they will know to bury the bloody knife first.
What an amazing visit with my amazing siblings and assorted amazing
outlaws. We are all aged and mellow now, and I love you all even more.
