Aged and Mellow

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!

 -  Johnny Otis, Preston Love, Aged and Mellow Blues

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.