| Commentary and Philosophy Non-Fiction posted December 18, 2013 | Chapters: |
...54 55 -56- 57... 
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The Never Starting Story
A chapter in the book The Never Starting Story
Chapter 56 Burt Mustin & Mikey
by michaelcahill
Burt Mustin has to be the poster boy for late bloomers. His busy career as a beloved character actor began in his sixties. He made his first of many movies at age sixty seven. I recall him as a character on The Andy Griffith Show. He played an amusing old character that was much more on the ball than he appeared. Quite funny and memorable with impeccable timing.
He enjoyed a long career of over twenty years and worked all the time seldom taking a break. A twenty plus year career is quite an achievement in any field let alone the cutthroat entertainment industry. Did I mention that he STARTED in his sixties?
That plays a huge role when asked if I consider myself too old to pursue a career in the arts. I am younger than Burt Mustin was when he began and he did fine.
Yet, where was that optimism when I quit all artistic endeavors at the ripe old age of thirty two? We all become fed-up and frustrated from time to time, don’t we? It seems that no one will listen or give your efforts a fair chance. No one will sit down for even five minutes of their precious time and just seriously read or listen to one poem or song and give it its due. Have you ever thought to yourself:
"I don't even mind if you hate it as long as you read it and give it your complete attention".
"Please listen! Please!"
That has always been the desperate plea behind my calm exterior. When I play a little song request for a gathering of friends it is important to me. I am hoping that it is well received. There once was a time that I was lying when I demurred. I couldn't wait to perform.
Then one day it wasn't a lie. I did not want to perform and I wouldn't. I did not want to write and I didn't. I abandoned it as completely as I did my high school buddies. I wanted to sing as much as I wanted to see my ex-wife.
This wasn't part of an over-all depression that had befallen my life. This related to this one aspect of my life alone. Everything else moved along with the normal ups and downs of existence.
Was it childish and foolish and downright idiotic? Yes, it was all of those things and more. It was a denial of everything I was and a cold back turned to the gifts that I had been blessed with. It was something that I would severely admonish anyone else for doing.
At Twenty-Five
One quarter of a century, I'm quite afraid
and feel quite a mess
a father never seen, a mother always heard
I've been driven inside myself, buried, hidden……..lost
no……..please, not yet
I'm beginning, not ending
if only childish tears would crease my face
I fear the explosion
relax….troubles will subside…..I'll put them away
How? Quite amazing really
Rapier wit….flashing smile…winking eyes
Superstar, come drink at my well, it is always full
forget the nickel, payment not required, I need nothing
I can absorb anything
This is not good, I'm lying
you people are cracking the well
So, now what?
Repair the well.
By yourself? As always.
Such a morose young man. What would such a young man grow up to be? That doesn't sound like the words of a future optimist. But, many writers have pieces written in the moment that do not necessarily reflect their over-all outlook on existence. A Halloween song doesn't mean I want to cook children and have them for dinner. Of course, it doesn't mean that I don't either. Is there actually enough doubt that I have to add that I am joking?
My Unlimited Horizons
The number of them does not daunt me
For I choose them all
Each horizon
To pursue at my leisure, one by one by one
My buddy, Time, slathered with ketchup
you are dressing on the sandwich I consume
You are incidental to my immortality.
Yep. What a crazy old fool. Crazy like a fox.....in a foxhunt…..hounds…..hunters….. Well, I have my wool coat in case it gets cold. I am a baaaad dude! Now where was I before I so rudely interrupted myself?
I came somewhat to my senses about ten years ago when I met a young lady. The lowest point in my life had been reached. My business had been wiped out by burglars. My new employer was graciously allowing me to work with and for people half my age for minimum wage. It was not the best of times.
To make a long story short. (I know, you don't believe me) This young girl was a writer. After a bit of chit chat I agreed to listen to one of her stories. She was and is the best writer I have ever heard. What kept going through my mind as her story unfolded was one thought, "I used to be this, I used to be like her."
I knew right there that I would return to who I was. I would never stop again. I swore it on her soul. So, I set myself up. I made it so I can't stop no matter how stupid I get.
By Burt Mustin rules I stand at the beginning of my career now. Those are the rules we should all follow no matter what our age is. When fifty years old became reality an assessment was in order.
My grandmother was sickly at that age suffering from heart trouble and diabetes. My mother at age fifty had survived her first battle with cancer. My father, I learned in retrospect, was already on oxygen for failing lungs. My grandfather had already passed away.
I had a concept in my mind of a life that limped along and ended somewhere between sixty-five and seventy. At fifty years of age I had zero health problems and zero health problems in my past. My blood panel was perfect and every aspect of health was perfect. All of that remains true.
My whole outlook on life was askew. I was likely to live for a long time. The odd thing was that it scared me. "My God, I could live thirty or forty more years! What will I do?" Those were my thoughts.
That is when this strange feeling of youth came over me. It feels a bit strange but, I can't shake it. So, I have just come to accept my youthfulness and surge forward.
I plan to make the world forget Burt Mustin!
Burt Mustin has to be the poster boy for late bloomers. His busy career as a beloved character actor began in his sixties. He made his first of many movies at age sixty seven. I recall him as a character on The Andy Griffith Show. He played an amusing old character that was much more on the ball than he appeared. Quite funny and memorable with impeccable timing.
He enjoyed a long career of over twenty years and worked all the time seldom taking a break. A twenty plus year career is quite an achievement in any field let alone the cutthroat entertainment industry. Did I mention that he STARTED in his sixties?
That plays a huge role when asked if I consider myself too old to pursue a career in the arts. I am younger than Burt Mustin was when he began and he did fine.
Yet, where was that optimism when I quit all artistic endeavors at the ripe old age of thirty two? We all become fed-up and frustrated from time to time, don’t we? It seems that no one will listen or give your efforts a fair chance. No one will sit down for even five minutes of their precious time and just seriously read or listen to one poem or song and give it its due. Have you ever thought to yourself:
"I don't even mind if you hate it as long as you read it and give it your complete attention".
"Please listen! Please!"
That has always been the desperate plea behind my calm exterior. When I play a little song request for a gathering of friends it is important to me. I am hoping that it is well received. There once was a time that I was lying when I demurred. I couldn't wait to perform.
Then one day it wasn't a lie. I did not want to perform and I wouldn't. I did not want to write and I didn't. I abandoned it as completely as I did my high school buddies. I wanted to sing as much as I wanted to see my ex-wife.
This wasn't part of an over-all depression that had befallen my life. This related to this one aspect of my life alone. Everything else moved along with the normal ups and downs of existence.
Was it childish and foolish and downright idiotic? Yes, it was all of those things and more. It was a denial of everything I was and a cold back turned to the gifts that I had been blessed with. It was something that I would severely admonish anyone else for doing.
At Twenty-Five
One quarter of a century, I'm quite afraid
and feel quite a mess
a father never seen, a mother always heard
I've been driven inside myself, buried, hidden……..lost
no……..please, not yet
I'm beginning, not ending
if only childish tears would crease my face
I fear the explosion
relax….troubles will subside…..I'll put them away
How? Quite amazing really
Rapier wit….flashing smile…winking eyes
Superstar, come drink at my well, it is always full
forget the nickel, payment not required, I need nothing
I can absorb anything
This is not good, I'm lying
you people are cracking the well
So, now what?
Repair the well.
By yourself? As always.
Such a morose young man. What would such a young man grow up to be? That doesn't sound like the words of a future optimist. But, many writers have pieces written in the moment that do not necessarily reflect their over-all outlook on existence. A Halloween song doesn't mean I want to cook children and have them for dinner. Of course, it doesn't mean that I don't either. Is there actually enough doubt that I have to add that I am joking?
My Unlimited Horizons
The number of them does not daunt me
For I choose them all
Each horizon
To pursue at my leisure, one by one by one
My buddy, Time, slathered with ketchup
you are dressing on the sandwich I consume
You are incidental to my immortality.
Yep. What a crazy old fool. Crazy like a fox.....in a foxhunt…..hounds…..hunters….. Well, I have my wool coat in case it gets cold. I am a baaaad dude! Now where was I before I so rudely interrupted myself?
I came somewhat to my senses about ten years ago when I met a young lady. The lowest point in my life had been reached. My business had been wiped out by burglars. My new employer was graciously allowing me to work with and for people half my age for minimum wage. It was not the best of times.
To make a long story short. (I know, you don't believe me) This young girl was a writer. After a bit of chit chat I agreed to listen to one of her stories. She was and is the best writer I have ever heard. What kept going through my mind as her story unfolded was one thought, "I used to be this, I used to be like her."
I knew right there that I would return to who I was. I would never stop again. I swore it on her soul. So, I set myself up. I made it so I can't stop no matter how stupid I get.
By Burt Mustin rules I stand at the beginning of my career now. Those are the rules we should all follow no matter what our age is. When fifty years old became reality an assessment was in order.
My grandmother was sickly at that age suffering from heart trouble and diabetes. My mother at age fifty had survived her first battle with cancer. My father, I learned in retrospect, was already on oxygen for failing lungs. My grandfather had already passed away.
I had a concept in my mind of a life that limped along and ended somewhere between sixty-five and seventy. At fifty years of age I had zero health problems and zero health problems in my past. My blood panel was perfect and every aspect of health was perfect. All of that remains true.
My whole outlook on life was askew. I was likely to live for a long time. The odd thing was that it scared me. "My God, I could live thirty or forty more years! What will I do?" Those were my thoughts.
That is when this strange feeling of youth came over me. It feels a bit strange but, I can't shake it. So, I have just come to accept my youthfulness and surge forward.
I plan to make the world forget Burt Mustin!
Looking for suggestions as always. A couple good ones recently. All topics considered. No format or order. My story more or less. But, tangents and rambling are things I have been known to do. So, suggestions for areas of discussion that are a bit off the beaten path are always considered and often embraced.
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