Because I have dim memories of, like Caesar, being ripped from my mother’s belly at some point in the wee hours of the morning, I can safely say that as of this posting–I am closer now to 50 years of age than 40.
Of course that’s not the right attitude to take. Thanks to the boomer generation, 50 is the new 30 which means I’m still in my mid-20s. While I had done some pretty cool things in my 20s, I really hit my stride during my early 30s. Late bloomer, me. In any case, when mentioning being 45 to certain folks–some respond with surprise and some with a whistful nostalgia.
As far as I’m concerned, my age isn’t much of a concern. I still enjoy cartoons, but I can also manage a pretty busy freelance and publishing business. I like games, good music, and the occasional neat toy. I also enjoy documentaries and Meet the Press. I never miss my comics, nor my New Yorker. I think I have a pretty good balance going. Physically, I’m in a stage of transition right now. We’ve recently acquired YMCA memberships and I’m spending a lot more time looking at food labels–noting things like fat content, calories, sodium, and fiber.
The timing, however, is pure coincidence. This period of exercise and improved diet doesn’t come as a result of turning 45, nor is it a New Years sort of thing. Our insurance plan would reimburse us for gym memberships and we had to do it by the end of December or lose the opportunity. Having joined a gym and started a so-far-successful exercise regimen, it seemed stupid not to pair it with an improved diet. That, and it will make my doctor happier. And to be brutally honest–I could lose a few pounds. Quite a few. I’m already feeling the benefits.
But back to birthdays. The day itself will likely be pretty routine. I’m up. I’m working–catching up after being without a computer for a few days–hitting the gym, then more work until Margaret gets home, then going out for coffee with some friends, then coming home and making dinner and off to bed to do it all again the next day.
I don’t see much in the history books as far as grand events happening on this day back in 1967. They don’t even mention my natal arrival which further demonstrates a continuing decline in Western scholarship. Still, I like to believe on that day there was a worldwide sense of anticipation, relief, and dread.
I’m married to the woman I love. I have a house. A great job. I have my health. I read, write, paint, play music, and I’m a fairly decent cook.
Today marks my 45th trip around the sun. I’m having fun.
Let’s see if I can’t pull off another 45.
That’s if the singularity or zombification doesn’t get me first.