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Wherein I Get Another Year Older

On this, my 43rd birthday, I can’t help but remember what Indiana Jones said in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Grousing about a body beat to hell from a life of adventure, he noted that it’s not the age but the mileage.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/lWkZqE3oaDs

I have to admit, my mileage shows. My beard is getting grayer. My knees aren’t as durable as they used to be. I’ve got sleep apnea and bad vision. But then all these things existed on my 42nd birthday. And my 40th and 38th. Which means I’m not at all bothered by it.

I’ve always had trouble understanding people who get depressed about their birthdays. What’s not to love about not being dead; of making it another year?

I’m always mindful of the fact that I had severe illness as a kid. That I haven’t yet developed colon cancer after all the damage Crohn’s Disease did to me in my youth is pretty amazing. I’ve seen a sibling and some good friends die young, and the fact that I’m so many years older than they were at their deaths makes me realize how lucky I am.

And hell, I’m still a kid in many respects. I love new toys, especially technological gadgetry and musical instruments. In the past year, I’ve collected guitars, amps and effects pedals with the same enthusiasm I had as a boy collecting Star Wars action figures and ships. I still play my music at maximum volume. I still love a good party, even if I no longer drink.

I’ve also found that being in my 40s is much better than being in my 20s and 30s. A lot of those years were full of suckage: jobs that chained me to desks for 80 hours a week, a body much heavier than it is now, OCD, and fear, anxiety, and depression that kept me in hiding much of the time.

At 43, I have a career that I love. I have the best wife on Earth and two boys that teach me something new every day. I have many, many friends who have helped me along in more ways than they’ll ever know.

This aging thing ain’t half bad.

Another year of graying whiskers, sore knees and hectic business travel? Bring it on.

Smoker 100th Year

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A Bittersweet Birthday

I felt very loved yesterday as we celebrated my 42nd birthday. Erin and the kids got me a guitar and practice amp, and we had an afternoon of grilling and enjoying the sun with some of my closest friends. My father was there too, but he wasn’t looking well.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:5TxUedy2CM04QihDdOFnsk]

Dad sat on the deck with his eyes mostly closed and kept dropping his water glass. When I was helping him out of his seat, he almost fell back. This morning my sister and stepmom called to tell me he’s now in the cardiac care unit of a hospital in Boston, with lungs filled with fluid and a heart with beat way out of tune from where it should be.

This is life in one’s 40s. You’re still young enough to lap up all the life around you, but you also have to watch your parents turn into the constantly sick people your grandparents were.

That’s not the universal way of things, obviously. But when I talk to other friends who are now in their 40s, you hear a lot of the same stories.

I don’t see it as something to be pitied for. It’s a part of life. My father hasn’t always taken taken care of himself, and he had a couple vicious strokes last year, which means life is spinning a little faster and more erratically these days.

I think Dad will come out of this all right, and frankly I think this is better than if he’d had a stroke. Dad has worked hard to regain his ability to walk, see and swallow, and he has made significant progress. Another stroke could have wiped out all that work.

I think he’s simply been pushing himself too hard. He doesn’t like sitting around at home all the time — a trait I inherited — so he’s been pushing himself into projects that require more energy than he has many days.

It sucked seeing him that way. But I’m glad he was here for my birthday. He got to see his grandkids and get a break from the monotony of therapy and limited movement. As shitty as he felt, I think that was good for his soul.

Thank you all for the birthday wishes yesterday. It was a real ego boost, which we all need from time to time.

As sad as it made me to see my father hurting, it was a very good day.

Please say a little prayer for the man.

Dad and Duncan