Watching the Billy Joel documentary, it occurred to me that he’s an old guy now and, by extension, so am I because we’re almost the same age. Both born in 1949, before rock and roll was even a concept.
Growing up, I casually knew Bill because we were raised in the massive suburb of Levittown. He in the Hicksville section, me in the Westbury precinct.
Teenagers in Levittown often spent hot summer nights at the “green,” where the municipal swimming pool was. Nobody had air conditioning, so we were all in pursuit of a cool breeze and a little fun.
Joel’s crew was right out of “Grease:” slicked-back hair, cigarettes in T-shirt sleeves, and gum a-poppin.
Following a New York tradition, we sometimes sang a cappella at the green, and Bill was far and away the star. Dion and the Belmonts, Ricky Nelson, Frankie Avalon-the hits just kept on comin’.
“Why must I be a teenager in love?” Dion lamented. Well, I wasn’t in love, but I felt the Bronx lad’s pain and wailed the song with a small measure of success. If you sang off-key in Levittown, you could wind up in the pool.
Decades later, Billy Joel had dinner at my house, astonishing my two kids. I overheard my daughter say, “I can’t believe Billy Joel likes my dad!”
She wasn’t alone.
In reality, Joel has no choice. Levittown people are bound together forever.
After dinner, Bill and Bill sang an old tune, one we did at the green: “So Much in Love” by the Tymes. The kids went catatonic because I held my own singing backup. Billy, as usual, was in perfect pitch.
Today, aging isn’t a major concern for me. I can still do nearly everything I did years ago. Good genes, I guess. I do pace myself, however.
Billy Joel still knocks it out in concert, and it’s incredible to watch. I think he easily channels younger days as I do. It doesn’t seem so long ago that we were singing “Travelin’ Man” surrounded by deep humidity and close companions.
Those summer nights are the real fountain of youth. I hope you have a few in your memory bank. No matter what happens going forward, your past defines you.
And, with apologies to Rod Stewart, those look-backs can keep you forever young.
