Sugar Mountain

Hi. This Saturday, March 7th at 2:00 pm EST, I’m hosting a Zoom gathering to celebrate my March 5th birthday when I’ll be turning 60. You’re invited. Find details and a Zoom link below.

Please click the PLAY button above to hear the intended PODCAST version of this episode. Find the complete transcript below. Thanks for being here! ❤️ Hal

When: March 7, 2-3:30 pm EST. (notice time change from previous announcement) Where: Zoom Meeting: 870 0553 2132What: Open House followed by playing, “Friends are Human - a game that brings you closer to your friends.” Note: Stay for 5 minutes or stay the whole time.

Sugar Mountain

Guess what!? I’m turning 60 next week… and you’re invited. I’ll tell you about that later, but for now, I just want to settle into the reality of getting older.

It was 40 years ago that I turned 20. That was 1986. At the time, I was loving the Neil Young song, “Sugar Mountain.” The first time I ever heard Neil Young something changed in me. I’d grown up taking piano lessons and listening to Casey Kasem play top 40 music on the radio. But I went away to college and heard the sound of Neil Young playing the guitar and the harmonica at the same time and I thought, “That’s what I want to do.” I was blown away. I heard him play “Sugar Mountain” and that became my anthem for a little while. “You can’t be 20 on Sugar Mountain, though you’re thinking that you’re leaving there too soon.” It goes…

“Oh, to live on Sugar Mountain, with the Barkers and the colored balloons. You can’t be 20 on Sugar Mountain, though you’re thinking that you’re leaving there too soon. You’re leaving there too soon.” - Neil Young

I loved that song so much. It was my coming of age song. I was growing up, I left home for college, I was growing my hair long and I was coming into my own. The reality was that I was a history major at Northwestern and I didn’t want to be there. “Sugar Mountain” helped me tap into the kind of life that I wanted — a free life on the mountain with a guitar and a harmonica.

I wasn’t really cut out for academics. The liberal arts education was what my dad recommended, but I see now I was meant for being out on the Frisbee field, creating with my hands, crafting and making — playing music. I wasn’t cut out for reading history books in the library. I wanted to be free. I didn’t want to be locked to a desk with chains . I wanted to wear my hair long and have a girlfriend and wear hippie clothes… and be free.

Lately, I’ve been reading a diary that I wrote back in 1985, 41 years ago. It’s been a fascinating read, a glimpse into my 19 year old brain. I was so insecure and so critical of others — desperate for a girlfriend. My big aspiration was to live among the homeless. I just wanted to roam the streets of Chicago. I wanted to be free. I’m gonna read you a little bit of the diary. Here’s an excerpt.

“The last couple days have been incredible. Right now, I’m rather confused and I have a kind of sick feeling and I can’t wait to talk to dad to get his opinions. It all started by reading ‘Illusions’ by Richard Bach.

Last night, I was to the point of crying, saying, ‘I have to get out of here. I have to get on my bike and ride.’ I spent most of the crying time thinking what I would tell dad to convince him how confused and unhappy I am. I have friends and all, but I’m 18 years old and I will soon be 80 years old, and I have to do what I really want. At this point, what I really want is to learn how to ride my bike and throw a Frisbee.

I was to the point last night where I honestly didn’t think I would be here next quarter. As I look back, it sounds like a big excuse to not do homework. But it’s still true today. I don’t know what I should do. I think about taking all those s**t requirements.

This morning, I was convinced that I would transfer into the music department and really learn how to play the piano. That would be cool — riding a bike around the world, playing the piano.

Guess what? This is the next day, and I’m gonna drop out of school. Actually, I have to talk to dad first. But as of now, I’m a member of American Youth Hostels. I’m gonna dress real warm and head south, hitting all the hostels, reading a lot, practicing Hacky Sack, riding my bike a lot. You know… I’ll find a place to stay, then unpack, then train on my bike. I was studying Russian last night, and then I stopped and read “Illusions” and I convinced myself.

I’m thinking that maybe I’ll find out the standards for transferring to the music school, but I’d still have to go through all this s**t of being nervous about finishing things. If there were no grades, people would study when they want to study. Some people wouldn’t study, but they would be happy. It’s impossible to not care about grades when there are grades. I can’t seem to have fun without thinking I should be doing something else. If I took a bike trip, I could do things like go into small town high schools and pick up an ultimate game. I could talk to people at hostels and I could sit back and read and write letters, making people think that I’m a great guy. I have to do it.

Tonight was calmer than two nights ago. That night, I almost got sick and I cried and screamed, “I have to get out of here.” I’m gonna ask Harold Walker III of the future a few questions now.

One — Did you take a break from school and take a bike trip? Two — Are you over the confusion of what to do with life yet? Three — Are you well educated? (not necessarily academically.) Four — Did you do the right thing? Five — Have you found something to really love and dedicate yourself to?

I have to get out of here. Today and yesterday, I convinced myself that I would transfer to theater, but tonight, as we prepare for the coffee house, I’ve discovered that I’m not an actor. My body is so big and uncoordinated. S**t! I can’t do anything. There’s nothing in my past worth remembering and unless I get out of here, I can’t foresee anything in the future. I’m so scared.

What should I do? Right now there’s nothing that I love to do but play ultimate… and I love Barb so bad, but I have nothing to say to her. Whenever we see each other, we part so abruptly without saying “goodbye.” On that bad night when I had to get out of here a week ago, I wanted so badly to talk to her and cry to her and have her comfort me. I got there and she wasn’t home and I went over to J.K. Sweets and there she was with her boyfriend. She looked so cold, and there was no way I could have said anything to her.

I can’t wait to take off on my bike, taking my time, having no rush to get anywhere. I’ll stop at Ohio Wesleyan and Ohio State and Miami U. And I’ll move on South and possibly stop by Granny and Grandad’s in Birmingham. But they would probably die knowing that I had dropped out of school and had long hair.

Oh s**t, I was just humiliated….”

Anyway, it goes on and on for many, many pages. 1985.

Well, Hal Walker of the past. It’s been a lot of life since then — 40 years as a matter of fact. You didn’t drop out of school, but you did go on the bike trips. You had a few girlfriends, you got married, you had a daughter named Hallie and you got divorced. And then two weeks ago, you started knitting. You’ve entered your knitting phase. Turning 60. Gettin’ started on knitting.

It’s been a good one. It’s been a good 40 years. I can’t wait for the next 40. I’m turning 60 next week. That gives me 40 more years to 100. I haven’t been listening to any music lately, so I don’t have a “coming of age song” for 60. I guess for me, it’s more of a coming of age activity — knitting. Yep… learning to knit.

My English girlfriend, Emma started knitting socks, and I said, “I want to learn to knit socks.” So we’re knitting socks together. I jumped right in and bought some yarn and bought some circular needles. I’m really enjoying it. I can’t believe it took me so long to get into knitting. I guess I had to slow down first to the pace of knitting. Of course, you know the way I roll. I’ve started with three knitting projects. I’m doing two pairs of socks and a hat. You know, my mom’s an artist and a knitter, and I realize, with all the art and knitting that I’ve been doing lately, she rubbed off on me more than I ever thought.

Hal of 1985… Yep, you found your thing — Islamic geometric patterns and knitting. And by the way, you got free. Yeah, you’re free, man. It took a while, but you got free. Just in time.

Birthday Zoom - You’re Invited.

So anyway, next week’s my birthday, and you’re invited. Here’s what I’m gonna do. Next Saturday afternoon, March 7, at 2:00 pm Eastern time, I’m hosting a Zoom and you’re invited. For the first half hour, it’s just an “Open House.” Stop in for 5 or 10 minutes just to say “Hi” and connect on Zoom with me and whoever shows up.

Then at 2:30 Eastern Time, for those of you that have the time to stay and want a deeper, more intimate connection, we’re going to play this game that I love called, “Friends are Human — a game that brings you closer to your friends.” And that’s what I want. That’s what I want on my birthday… is to be closer to my friends. And YOU are my friends and you’re invited. So we’ll gather and connect.

Let me just pull out one of the questions. It’s basically a deck full of questions. I will pick out my favorites and we’ll take turns answering them. There will be no pressure to speak. You can just listen. But if you want to make yourself vulnerable and share, you’ll have the opportunity to answer the questions.

For instance, “What’s a topic you wish you knew more about?” These are just random. “What parts of your life do you hope will be the same 10 years from now?” Nice. Here’s a deep one. “How has your understanding of love evolved as you’ve grown older.” And finally… (there’s 140 cards to choose from) Here’s one up my alley. “If you could learn any new skill instantly, what would it be?” And finally, “What’s something you’re passionate about that you don’t get to talk about very often.”

So we will have some time together on Zoom. Stay as long as you want or as short as you want. It’s my 60th birthday. Please, no gifts. Actually, my birthday is on March 5th and this event is on March 7th, but that’s okay.

Everyone, thanks so much. Thanks for being here. I hope you’ll come. I’ll leave the Zoom link above on this post and I hope to see you there. In the meantime, enjoy living in that body of yours. It’s not going to be around forever. I mean, we’ve only got 40 more years. We’ve only got 40 more years, and the last 40 went by so fast.

“You can’t be 20 on Sugar Mountain, though you’re thinking that you’re leaving there too soon… Now you say you’re leaving home ‘cause you want to be alone. Ain’t it funny how you feel when you’re finding out it’s real? Oh, to live on Sugar Mountain, with the Barkers and the colored balloons. You can’t be 20 on Sugar Mountain, though you’re thinking that you’re leaving there too soon, you’re leaving there too soon.” - Neil Young

Thanks for listening. I appreciate you. I’ll see you next time. Bye, Bye.