I just turned 38 years old. In my mind, it’s a big age — a whopper! It’s one of those “gettin’ up there” ages, and pretty darn close to 40. Not to mention, it’s a big kid age. A milestone of sorts — one that signals I’m truly an adult (there’s really no point in denying it anymore). As such, I feel like there are certain things I should have accomplished by now, so the other night I made a list.
So here it is …
Things I should have done by 38 (but haven’t):
• Written a perfectly awful novel that has no hope of ever being published — I thought for sure I would have two stinkers collecting dust by now, but it seems I’ve failed at failing this one. Which is a shame because I have some really terrible story ideas just waiting to never bore anyone to pieces. One would be titled, “Bacon fat and onion gravy” … it’s the story of a young Canadian whose only dream in life is to come to the South and learn how to cook in a greasy spoon diner. That’s the whole story right there.
• Started losing hair — In fact, I seem to be collecting more of it. Thanks Sicilian-Cuban ancestry! When does it start falling out? Somebody please help me on this one. I’m thinking about investing in pruning sheers.
• Solved a crime — Not even close on this one.
• Had a mid-life crisis — Aren’t you supposed to have one of these by now? Worst I’ve done is started exclusively drinking India Pale Ales and made minor adjustments to how I do my hair. (Now when I get out of the shower, I run my fingers through it three times instead of two, and go in a slightly southwest direction. Biggest hair style change for me since high school when I started going 2 degrees northwest.) But shouldn’t the loss of youth and the tug of growing older cause me to regress and do something really stupid? I don’t understand — I’m perfectly happy with my life, happy as a husband and father. Even happy with this age. It just doesn’t seem fair!
• Become brave — Thinking back on childhood, I always wanted to be an adult because I figured nothing would ever scare you when you’re an adult. Guess what? IT’S EVEN SCARIER NOW! What a crock that was! I don’t get it. Shouldn’t I be fearless? Swimming with piranha and cliff diving by now? But thunder still gives me the shakes, and I won’t even jump in a pool that’s colder than 75 degrees. Maybe at 40?
• Bought myself something really big, dumb and expensive — Maybe this goes along with the mid-life crisis, or that I don’t have a lot of money to burn through. But it seems like I should have bought a Corvette by now or purchased a Harley. Maybe a boat I don’t use and takes up space in the driveway. I thought about collecting rocks (there’s a Rock of the Month Club I saw), but I don’t think that really counts. Best I could come up with was a North Face jacket, a new folding ladder that doesn’t sway like a drunk when you’re on it and double-layer running socks. Hey big-spender …
• Have a lot of money to burn through — What the heck happened with this one? I kind of figured I would have a whole bunch of money by now. I’m not complaining — I have exactly what I need. I provide for my family, take trips and even save. But I thought I would be filthy rich. And when I say “filthy rich,” I mean literally filthy … like I wouldn’t take baths anymore. I would hire people to spray me down with water purified in gold leaf, pearls and imported peppermint. No soap. I would have a lion that roams free in my house and eat lobster tails on crackers at all hours of the day. But somewhere along the way I made a wrong turn.
• Figured out some kind of secret to life — Although, maybe I have on this one. It seems in the last year little changes have come over me, and I’ve had a number of epiphanies (maybe thanks to the pale ale). I don’t dwell on things so much anymore. I don’t get so upset about things or worry as much. I smile … all the time … everywhere … even if it makes me look slightly crazy. I don’t give it much thought if I look slightly crazy. Isn’t everyone just a little bit? I try to live it up and enjoy every minute. I don’t look down the road so much — I look around right here. I stop and smell the flowers and even pick one or two. And most of all, I don’t let a list like this get to me. In fact, I’m ripping this one right up. Throwing it away. And forgetting I’m 38. (At least until I’m 40.)