I wouldn’t normally do this, but I feel I have to use this space to clear up some horrible misinformation. If you happened to drive by my house this week, you noticed flamingo yard signs and a message with a blatant lie.
It said “Happy Birthday” to my wife. That wasn’t a lie. No, but the sign COMPLETELY got her age wrong. I shall not repeat the lie. I will not inflict that unbearable pain again.
Family members did this. Their hearts were in the right place. I’m not disputing that. It was sweet to walk out and see a yard filled with flamingoes. My dog thought we had been transported to another universe. She didn’t know where the heck we were.
That was fine. But how did they get their math so wrong?!? What are they, Congress?!
So, I need to take this very public forum and get the right information out there. Set the record straight. Because honesty and accuracy are the bedrock of this great profession. I proclaim this: My wife is not the age on that board! No, she is 32. Maybe 34 … tops.
There, said it. Life will go on.
The age they said! How could she be such a thing? Sweet, beautiful woman. Curses! Can’t be more than 35. Have you seen her?!? I posted this message on Facebook (partly because I forgot to buy a card): “Happy Birthday to my lovely wife, Nancy. You are as young as the day I met you!”
I probably read that somewhere. I have a horrible memory, but I do retain key information that will get me out of a pinch.
Either way, I meant it. She hasn’t aged in my eyes.
“Woman! You look good!” I often tell her. It gets me slapped, but I tell her anyway. Because she does.
What’s her secret? I think she smiles a lot. And as a teacher, she’s around children all day. That keeps you youthful. Plus, she sleeps in a hyperbaric chamber filled with mango chutney, ginger and fish scales. It’s a proven Chinese method for slowing the effects of time.
Maybe there are other reasons.
“I am old; I recognize it but I don’t realize it,” Mark Twain once said. “I wonder if a person ever really ceases to feel young — I mean, for a whole day at a time.”
I think there’s a lot to be said for that. I turned 40 this year (I said “I” did … I’m speaking ONLY about myself. I didn’t mention anyone else, or imply anything!) I recognized that massive, milestone-ish tick of the clock. How 20s and 30s are long in the rearview mirror. Shoot, my teens are two continents back.
But once I got over the initial shock of being that thing I always dreaded, it didn’t mean much to me. It didn’t change much. I recognized it, but I didn’t realize it.
Isn’t that the way it should be? Isn’t that what keeps us youthful? Well, that and all of the wrinkle-reducing moisturizer I drink each morning. It keeps me hydrated and beautiful. (Editor’s note: don’t actually drink wrinkle-reducing moisturizer. The only thing you will “realize” is a trip to the hospital.)
Alas, life will go on. The error that was in the front yard is now corrected. The public record states the undeniable truth: My wife is clearly 35 1/2. Certain family members will no longer be invited to Christmas. (You know who you are!) And, with no exaggeration, I repeat what I said before: She is as young as the day I met her. Whew!
Don’t worry, honey. One day, when you DO turn 40 like me, you’ll see that it’s not that bad. The secret is simple: never realize it.