Category Archives: old age

Hollywood, irony, old age

OLD MODELS

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[A handsome, twenty-something-year-old man with the perfect 5 o’clock shadow. He gives off an air of aloofness while seeming overly concerned with himself.]

“I’m an actor…  but I make my living as a valet in a fancy Hollywood restaurant.

I know… I’m a walking cliché. 

Anyway, we get all types pulling up to the curb… the ones who always complain, the ones who never tip, the trophy wives in their SUVs, the  midlife crisis douches in their flashy cars.

But there’s one group in particular that I find very interesting. It’s always an older person, not terribly old… late fifties, early sixties… and they never look their age… tall, lean, elegant; you can tell they were very attractive when they were younger, a lot of them still are.

The weird part is they all drive cars from the seventies and eighties, and mostly Mercedes-Benz. But no normal Mercedes; they’ve got limited editions or high-end models with all the bells and whistles from the time, vanity plates, custom paint jobs… the works.

I could never put my finger on why they drove around what were practically collector’s cars or how they got them in the first place. 

Until the other day this older woman came to the restaurant in her ’79 Mercedes convertible. A beauty, her and the car. 

When I got behind the wheel to park it, I noticed a leather folder on the passenger seat. I couldn’t help but to take a peek.

It was the lady’s modeling portfolio from when she was younger. I wasn’t surprised… she had the look.

But then I realized the photos were the answer to the mystery.

All those attractive grandparents were models or actors back in the day. They must have hit it big in their early twenties and burned through their paychecks buying luxurious cars, thinking success would last forever.

I felt bad for the pretty old lady, for all of them… obsolete. Out of place and time, chewed up and spit out by Hollywood.

That thought scared the shit out of me…

So much so I’m no longer buying that Porsche when I get my big break.“

Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016

death, love, old age

ROUGH TRANSLATION

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[A U.S. born Latina wearing nurse’s scrubs and a name tag that reads, “Rosa Hernandez.”)

“People think being a nurse is pretty straight-forward… you just help whoever needs help.

But sometimes is not that simple.

Like once, when I had this patient, an old Mexican widower who seemed very distinguished despite being in the final stages of dementia… There wasn’t much we could do for him, just make him feel comfortable while he was with us.

When his condition worsened and he became violent, the only solution was to keep him sedated…

From that point on, he seemed to forget English and only spoke in Spanish. This was a big problem for his children because none of them spoke a lick of it…

So when one of them saw my name, they grabbed me and asked me to translate.

But despite all appearances, I barely speak Spanish and only half understand it.

They seemed so desperate though… I couldn’t refuse.

So I listened to the old man, caught a word here and there, like “agua” or “frío” and then I made up the rest.

When his time came, we reduced the sedatives so he could say goodbye to his children… Oh, and did he ever!

Again, I’m not that confident about my Spanish, but I could swear he was saying how angry he was at them, how lonely he had felt the last years of his life, how ignored…

He had especially harsh words for his older son, whom I’m pretty positive he called the disappointment of his life.

To be fair, it was hard to tell if he really meant what he was saying, or if it was the drugs and dementia talking.

He rambled on for a while until he passed.

His children immediately asked me what his last words meant… So I told them: “He wanted you to know he loved you very much.”

They were all very thankful… especially his older son.

And that’s why I say my job’s not that simple…

I’m not sure who I helped that day.”

Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016

love, old age

A SLOW DANCE

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[A 60-year-old man, bald but still attractive. He looks at peace with a content expression.]

“Susie and I were married for thirty years. We were happy, really happy.

Our best friends, the Olsons, were happily married too… that’s probably why we bonded so well.

Stuart was a nice guy, easy to talk to, good heart…

Lizzie, his wife, was… is beautiful, smart, full of life… Definitely something else.

We were so close we would go on vacation together, spend the weekends, sometimes we’d meet up after work for a drink.

Then, one day, Lizzie and I noticed my wife and her husband seemed to be getting even closer… I knew by the way Susie looked at Stuart; Lizzie saw how Stuart laughed at Susie’s jokes.

At first, we didn’t give it too much thought. After all, their personalities were very compatible, so it was only natural they got along so well.

In a way, Lizzie and I allowed the relationship to grow. We’d even encouraged them to just go together to the movies or to dinner when we weren’t up to it.

And yes, of course, we had our suspicions. Lizzie or I mentioned the possibility of them having an affair… and then we’d kid each other about our jealousy, our insecurities…

Then, not long ago, Lizzie called me… Stuart had confessed he was in love with Susie.

I asked my wife if she felt the same way about Stuart and she confirmed it. The following week they moved out and rented an apartment, ready to spend the rest of their days together.

Soon after, Lizzie and I did the same…

We thought they would never leave.”

Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016