While driving southwestward in South Carolina towards a Georgia sunset over the Savannah River this past Monday, an old blues tune popped into my head.

Nearly fifty years ago, on a up state temporary stage in New York, the British blues rock group Ten Years After played to a cold, sodden, barely awake, night time crowd in Woodstock their signature fiery song, I’m Going Home.

It was so cold that the lead singer’s breath could be seen in the film of that performance. A friend told me decades later that he watched this song while shivering with the remnants of a fifth of Jack Daniels as his sole source of heat until the next morning’s sunrise.

Alvin Lee’s guitar work and singing woke him up in electrifying fashion.

W and I arrived at our Savannah home less than five minutes after sun had set over the Talmadge Bridge.

I awoke the next day with group’s name turning over in my mind to ask myself how different am I than I was ten years ago? So here is a list of things different Ten Years After:

I can see the finish line. No, not death. Daily joy. I never thought about or felt it ten years ago.

A lot happier.

I am forty plus pounds lighter and more of my hair is grey. To be fair, I was probably a bit overweight before.

I can take a leak at a 45 degree angle. Huge progress. Cleaner floors.

Have let go of the things I couldn’t change and changed the things I could.

Work or accomplishments no longer define me — family and friends do.

Less angry. Still working to focus on positive events and people. Trying to leave behind the cynical and sarcastic.

Travel more with loved ones.

Very attuned to the question “If not now, when?”

I can sleep more than five hours a night.

Over the hill but have yet to pick up speed.

I drink much better wine.

Less hair.

Remaining constant are musical tastes, abiding distrust of politicians, and sports allegiances.

I did not like proto-smart cell phones back then and now I loathe most everyone else’s monster format, selfie taking, social media enabled, smart phones’ use especially for gaming in movie theaters while the movie rolls and for the epitome of hipster/Instagram/political ethos restaurant dining.

Ten years ago my grandkids thought I was cool. Back then they were 15, 13 and 11. Now they have a lot more education and wisdom.

In 2009, I had visited France only twice since I spent a year at a French university during the interesting times of 1968-69. In the past six years including this past December, we have gone back there almost yearly.

I’m going home daily.

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