Time keeps on slippin'

Why I'll never hear the song "Fly Like an Eagle" the same

I cried today at a music festival.

As my boyfriend John and I danced and swayed in the audience at the Treme Fall Festival, I watched an older Black man in front of us in the VIP section. He was wearing a black veteran baseball cap, had a slightly bent-over posture and held a tambourine.

He was moving and grooving his way through the open section. Women his age were flocking to him. One boisterous woman came and backed it up against him. Another woman, who had retired 70s hippie vibes, matched his energy and started dancing around him. She bobbed in and out of his face, unapologetically moving her legs and arms like uncaged snakes.

She was a white woman with shoulder-length red-ish hair wearing a faux flower headband, a blue Oktoberfest-style dress and ankh earrings.

The man and woman, who appeared to be strangers bonding over music, were clearly in the latter half of their lives but beamed with childlike joy. They were in that stage of life where they didn’t care what they looked like. They were there for a good time, not a long time.

At one point during the festival, TCB Brass Band started playing the 1976 hit "Fly like an Eagle” by the Steve Miller Band. Before I could even stop them, my eyes welled up with tears as I watched the older Black man sing to his dance partner: “time keeps on slippin,’ slippin,’ slipping…into the future.” As the lyrics left his mouth, I saw a vision of a younger version of him singing the same song, dancing in the same way, but without any idea of what the future would hold.

I saw a Black male veteran dancing here with me in the present, but I wondered about the young, hopeful young Black man he once was. I wondered what his life was like and how he felt about time going by.

I envisioned a younger version of the woman. I imagined her with long red hair flowing down her back and a hand-picked flower tucked behind her ear. Her essence was the same, it was just her exterior that changed a little.

I’m still taken aback at how much this moment moved me. I’m still deconstructing it as I write these very words.

But what I’ve received so far is this: Your life’s clock will keep ticking, no matter what. Life can sometimes feel like sand slipping through your fingers, rushing by so fast you can’t hold onto it. So, dance. Take up space. Treat empty spaces as your dance floor. Don’t let your age stop you from living. Time’s going to keep moving regardless. You might as well enjoy every moment you’re given. We’re not going to be here forever. Be FREE. Fly like an eagle. Because time is guaranteed to keep slippin’ into the future.