 Early September 1971. My older brother is starting school. There is life out beyond the great green expanse known as Yard and soon he will be experiencing all that it has to offer. Reading, writing, friends, milk break, shoe tying; they are all within his grasp now. The whole of the world lay at his fingertips. I am ready as well. I have risen early, filled my tippy cup to the brim; donned my city hat and found my favorite sock. Oh, the adventures that must await me; the trials that beckon with their siren's song of glorious achievement. Today is the day. I am ready for Life. Big glorious wonderful life!
Where do the years go?
In four days I will be thirty eight years old. Its not the birthday at which most find themselves in a deeply introspective stupor, but hey, I live there, so where else would I be? In truth, I find this birthday more significant than the normally dreaded numbers of thirty or forty or fifty. Thirty eight is the twentieth anniversary of what society defines as adulthood. It is the point at which we have had two full decades of adult life to forge ourselves into the strong, stable, independent individuals we always thought we would be.
Are you where you had hoped you would be?
I can remember a time when I wanted to be a professional baseball player. (Actually, it is still that time, but dreams must be put out of their misery at some point). There were also the old standards of fireman, cop, spy, and super hero. As it has turned out I am none of these, though I do wear a red cape from time to time. Now, after my two decades of time to become whatever it is I desired to be, I find myself not only without the desired achievement, but running awfully short on desire itself. It seems my dreams were the little boy in the big red hat, left standing at the screen door.
But don't take this post to be a pity party. I will have none of that. No, the approaching birthday is just one last moment to look back on what I have not become, reflect, learn, and then jump forward into whatever it is that awaits. There are more dreams out there, I just need to find one. After all, that is life. Whether I'm three, thirty eight, or eighty five, something always lies ahead.
I've always liked that picture, but this year, I think I'm going to make it out that door. After all, I didn't get all dressed up for nothing.
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You make it out that door and and down the drive to the end and look both ways you just might see me with my big brite yellow school bus....
What a cute little guy you were. As far as yesterday's dreams go, one should not forget the advice that Will Rogers offered back in the 1930s:
"Never let yesterday use up too much of today." Start now, and forge new dreams which are still achievable for you at the age of 38.
All kidding aside.....
What an adorable picture. You just couldn't have been cuter and, yes, you were just about to explode with potential.
What exactly does "achievement" mean in this context? By the young age of 38, you're evidently a well-educated, highly intelligent, productive, literate, hilarious, philosophical, feeling, occasionally jackassical fellow. You've taken some risks (on rocks, in love). What is it you haven't done?
But I like your attitude that "the time is NOW" - - if you sincerely feel that you haven't yet lived up to your potential, then I hope you go for it with everything you got. It's a little overwhelming to think of what you'd be like at full potential, though, if you're not firing on all pistons NOW.....
You asked if we're where we want to be in our lives - - and I'd have to answer with an unqualified "YES!" Mainly because I am where I am; I am where my genetics/past/decisions have all led me. Does that mean that everything's perfect? Well, HELL, no! There are things I'm changing or will change, but that's just the course of a human life. Am I doing exactly what I expected when I was younger? No way - - I'm not a prison warden, nor a priest, nor a lawyer, nor any of the other things that went in and out of my noggin over time. But I'm thrilled with what I'm doing and I feel good about the character that I've built over 44 years of living and feeling and hurting and falling and trying and succeeding.
Regardless, I wish you the best birthday yet - - the rule is that you have to celebrate one day for every year you've been alive, so you've got a month-long party comin' to ya.
Glad you were born, youngster.
I'll be out there. Thanks for stopping by and commenting.
I'm on the lookout. When I find them, I'm gonna be all over them, forging like a rabbit... who is also a blacksmith.
I was cute, wasn't I? Sadly, I was wearing the same outfit the other day and, well, I just can't seem to pull it off anymore. I think maybe the hat is just a bit too much at my age.
I don't exactly know what it is I want, or need, to achieve. I could be content living out my life as is, but content starts to turn to bored after a while. Then it curdles and you have cottage cheese. No wait, that's milk. Anyway, something needs to change. Maybe its a personal thing, though no one in their right mind would ever be able to put up with me and I can't see putting up with anyone else, or maybe its professional, I would love to work for something besides a need for money, or maybe I just need to move into the mountains, grow a beard and befriend a bear. I don't know. I just need more. Mid-life crisis? Maybe. Though I tend to think I'm above such things. Yeah, that sounds elitist. Imagine that!
Anyway, time to start that partying. The hookers should be here at any minute and I haven't even waxed the llama yet.
Well, as my grandfather used to say, "When life gives you cottage cheese, make cottage cheese-aide - - oh, the hell with that! Bring me a beer, Carlos!" He always called me Carlos, even though I was female and not Latino and named Carla. What a guy.
Carlos says, "Bravo, mi amigo!" Really, though, you're the rare male bird if, at 38, you're willing to examine your life and figure out what will give it more meaning. Hooking up with a bear and a waxed llama is a start, of course, but you might eventually want to return to humankind or maybe just human-like (orangutans, for instance).
For a writer, maybe a good place to start is with books - - when's the last time you read "A Tale of Two Cities"? Well, that's too long! Go get a copy at your library, STAT! There's nothing like self-sacrifice for love and justice to get one's blood stirring. And that's how we like our blood - - stirred, not shaken.
Or take a trip - - yeah, that's the ticket! About three years after my divorce, I went to Scotland for three weeks - - it changed my life. The haggis alone was life-changing
Whatever you do, you're starting from a great point - - you're already terrific, even if you don't change a whit. Someone really should change Whit - - he's been a little smelly for a while now.
These feelings of (angst? ennui?) are also responsible, at least in part, for my decision at 43 to begin studying/practicing Aikido. And to attempt to learn Spanish starting at 38. Would you have it any other way?