Spending middle age as a 'classic'
Mark Pavilons

I'm a collectible.

You know, the stage where you're not vintage or antique, just classic. I retain my classic lines, which I like to refer to as the sought-after impressionist look (a fancy way to say fruit shape). Like a muscle car of the 1970s, I'm appealing, in a strange, outdated kind of way. I still run well, but my seatbelts don't work all the time and parts are hard to come by unless you know a guy ... You can usually find my likeness sitting on the shelf of toy car collectors.

The other day, as I was squatting to my exercise DVD, my bright and observant son Liam asked why my bones were creaking. He was specifically referring to my right knee which made an audible, but as I like to say, "classic," crunching sound. At first I thought it was due to age, but quickly realizing I'm still in my prime, I told him I don't have enough juice between my bones. How's that for quick-thinking?

Lying on the rec. room floor with Liam, playing with toy airplanes, I felt young again, as when the world was new. We staged dog fights, although my missile attacks didn't have the umph they once did - Liam and his squadron were impervious to such weapons. My aircraft, however, took direct hits, spiralling to the ground like broken kites.

I also gave Liam a quick history lesson on the massive zeppelin Hindenburg - the largest aircraft ever to grace the skies. While my detailed run-through may have been a bit much for a six-year-old, Liam's a quick study and a very good listener when he wants to be. Whether he remembers the difference between helium and hydrogen remains to be seen.

For a time, I was lost, dining in luxury and comfort aboard this lighter-than-air "ocean liner." Nostalgic to be sure.

I became somewhat lighter than air myself, pondering a time decades past, when suits, manners and listening to radio programs were popular. I've never been much of an antique collector, but I must admit I've always respected the craftsmanship and appeal of things made long ago, without the use of robotic assembly lines and cheap offshore labour. The fact that items created even hundreds of years ago have stood the test of time attests to how well things were made, and the pride taken every step of the way. I thought about these things, while washing my child's plastic sippy cup and various other plastic products.

While browsing the Internet, looking for Hindenburg details, Liam asked why the world had no colour back then (the era we covered spanned the 1920s and 1930s). "The world was as colourful as you and I," I told him, "it's just that they didn't have colour film or TV back then."

And then it dawned on me; me the "classic" not vintage male. When I was young, we had a black and white TV with rabbit ears; there were no home computers, cell phones, fax machines or microwaves.

When I was Liam's age, man touched the surface of the moon for the very first time, during an age of great accomplishments and again, pride. I don't much recall it happening first-hand, but my mom does. And she vividly remembers watching the news during the fall of 1963, swaddling her new male child (me), when a very popular man by the name of John F. Kennedy, met an untimely end.

Lately, as I hear about a slowing in the economy; layoffs at auto plants; record bank profits and the list of over-paid civil servants, I again drift off, thinking of a quieter time, when the world was a bit more black and white. To be sailing across the Atlantic, lulled by the drone of the engines of that massive airship, would be an aviation buff's dream come true. Classic, and vintage.

I then returned to eBay, searching for vintage items, and those dating back to the year of my birth (hint, they made a very nice split-window Corvette that year). Is hinting at one's age a sign of age? While few items from the '60s held any interest, I did find some nifty postcards from those aboard both the Hindenburg and Graf Zeppelin (and one seller had a pair of pliers from a crewman killed when the Hindenburg exploded in 1937).

I know my wife - who's neither vintage nor classic - would not encourage my pursuit of more dust-attracting artifacts. I already have framed banknotes, record albums and aircraft memorabilia - framed, but not in plain view (need I say more?). I keep trying to insist that these trinkets will fetch a dandy price on eBay when Liam is an adult and he can cash in on dad's hobbies. But, as most of us males fully realize, the female of the species is much wiser and dismisses such arguments with alacrity. I have instructed her to bury me with several of my miniature toy airplanes, along with any of my collectibles she deems worthless. Who said you can't take it with you?

Funny, despite the fact time does advance without my express consent, I still feel relatively young most of the time. When I come across as wise and learned, I merely indicate to those around me that I'm brilliant, not experienced gained from age. I've stopped referring to things that are more than 20 years old - as if I'd remember any of that!

There's no doubt that one day I will become vintage, and a highly sought-after collectible.

In the meantime, Liam and I have many more excursions to take. Next stop? Saturn and its more than 10,000 rings ...