Livin’ the dream, man? Here’s what that looks like for a middle-aged metro-east man

“How’s it going?”

“Livin’ the dream, man … livin’ the dream.”

It’s an innocent greeting and reply.

We say it to poke innocent, humble fun at ourselves. Basically, my life’s OK. But it’s not as good as I once dreamed it would be at this stage.

Ask myself, seriously: Am I living the dream, man?

Answer: Depends on the day.

I’ve reached the age when I don’t dream often.

I’m drenched in reality. Maybe I dream, but I don’t remember them. Warning: Something happens as you age. You forget more, dream less. I wish I could dream more, forget less.

I miss dreams. Good dreams. It was free entertainment. I’d wake up. Shake my head. Wonder if that really just happened or not? My sleep imagination was an adventure. Often hilarious. Sometimes, scary. Always entertaining. Afraid to share them.

Close my eyes.

Livin’ the dream, man.

I was going to play for the Cardinals. Live near the Rocky Mountains. Married to school teacher Alice Johnson of TV show “Room 222” (Karen Valentine). If not her, then maybe Laurie Partridge (“Partridge Family”/Susan Dey) or Julie Barnes (“Mod Squad”/Peggy Lipton)

Sing like James Taylor.

Dance like Travolta.

Witty like George Carlin.

Cool like a Kennedy.

Imagination is a boy’s best friend, right?

Livin’ the dream, man.

My dreams have never been about exotic islands, winning lotteries, big boats, fast cars, or being anything but myself. Maybe a little younger, a few inches taller and know how to dance without apologizing first.

Livin’ the dream, man?

What would that look and feel like today?

• I’d have season tickets to the Cardinals and Blues. Plus, I would have a seat at the organization’s table when it comes to personnel decisions.

• Another championship parade in downtown St. Louis. I’m in the front row on Market Street. No tall people in front of me.

• Financial security but nothing obnoxious. Enough to pay my bills. And my kids’ bills. Money set aside for the next Mackin generation. Maybe a set of Pings. A Trek bike.

• Have a few minutes alone with Stan Kroenke.

• Go to Ireland again. Return to the Cliffs of Moher. Count the number of native Irish residents who look at me like I’m somebody they should know.

• Uncle Tupelo is playing tonight at Mississippi Nights on LaClede’s Landing!

• Go to the Canadian Rockies. Take a picturesque train ride through the mountains.

• Grab the high bar at the gym and do a few chin-ups. No sweat. No quivers. And somebody sees me. No one would believe it otherwise.

• A round of golf with Charles Barkley, Ted Simmons and Jim Valvano.

• Write a book. Donate proceeds to cancer research.

• Clean bills of health for all my family and friends. Fresh slate.

• No more political arguments. Two respectable parties. Vote your choice. Shut up otherwise.

• Two good golf shots, in a row, consistently.

• One moment, and one photo, with my two kids, their spouses, my grandson, and my late parents, Betty and Bud.

• Welcome back, Mississippi River Festival!

• The ballfields at the old St. Philip’s Grade School in East St. Louis are restored and intact. On a weekday evening, a small boy stands at home plate and really believes that if he can hit a baseball over Harding Ditch, he can hit it out of Busch Stadium.

• Is that old coach R.J. Krause yelling, “HUSTLE”?

• Friday night lights are back at the old Township Stadium in Belleville. The real grass is back on the old crowned football field. I’m sitting in the end zone.

• John Prine, Tom Petty, Jimmy Buffet and Gordon Lightfoot are playing music tonight at the old Stonehenge in Lebanon.

• My hair is fire-engine red again. The afro is cool.

• The Cardinal Red Jackets are back at home plate. Lou. Red. Gibby. Stan the Man. Sutter. McCarver. Waino sings the national anthem. Stan on the harmonica.

• Roy Orbison is singing at The Abbey in Belleville on a Thursday night. “It’s too bad that all these things can happen only in my dreams. Only in dreams, in beautiful dreams.”

Livin’ the dream, man.