Wednesday, October 28, 2009

A Farewell To Greatness

     Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has just turned off the TOO MUCH INFORMATION filter and would like to warn you that what you are about to read is not going to be pretty.

     I'm 35.  I'm 35 for one more week and the gravity of 36 is beginning to pull things in the wrong direction.  The hair on my head has statred its migration to my upper and middle back.  I have told the girl who cuts my hair (less frequently than she used to I might add) that when the flesh yarmulke becomes the focal point of my dome, she needs to just pull out the clippers without warning and just shave my head.  This started out as a joke but I fear that the day when it becomes a reality is much closer than I had anticipated.

     I remember being a strong 16 year old kid painting the trim on my Mom's friend's house.  With one foot on the roof the ladder slipped out from under me and SPLAT!  Flat on my back on the driveway from about 10 feet up.  I remember laying there for a moment wondering if I was dead or if I had actually just defied the laws of physics.  Nothing hurt, nothing seemed out of place.  I slowly rose to my feet, checked to see if there was blood pouring from any of my orifices....  Nope, all good.  I looked at the pavement on the driveway and asked it, "Are you ok?"  I was unstoppable and it was awesome.

     At 35, I wake up in the morning to the screaming of a stiff lower back that takes at least 30 minutes to cooperate.  My Achilles tendons, the ones that are supposed to give me the spring in my step act like bungy coards that are stretched to their limits and leave me walking like Frankenstein down the stairs to get the kid off to school. 

     At 35 my eyelids are starting to hang over themselves to the point where I can see them in my line of vision.  They are drooping from the top down like a pair of socks that have lost their elastic.

     At 35, you start to remember all of the little comments you used to hear your grandparents make about their age and you begin to realize that these comments are not too far away from coming out of your mouth too.  Some may say that they age like a fine wine and to them I communicate the only sign language that I can remember.  I tend to be aging like a fine cheese.  No, not a sharp cheddar or muenster or even a tasty brie.  No, I am aging like one of those Danish cheeses that you can smell from a mile away.  It stinks to think about not being unstoppable anymore. The time has come to bid a fond farewell to the greatness of my younger years.  Now, I will take things just a little slower and maybe see more of life instead of rushing through with reckless abandon.   I know what you're thinking.  36 is not old, and you're right, but 36 is older than I want to be.  There is no evidence of the kid who used to live in this body and I think that is where the struggle lies.

     So, at 35 and 358 days I come to grips with the fact that there is nothing that I can do to stop the decomposition of my youth, so I might as well look in the mirror, point and laugh at the guy I see and keep on keepin' on.






  1. I refuse to let my age stop me. Maybe it's easier for me to grow older because my younger years were not great at all. I'm much happier now.

  2. John, I feel your pain. All I can say at this point is, that it gets easier (to deal with, that is). At 45, I find myself looking in the mirror and wondering where all of the gray hair came from. Haircuts are just depressing at this point. And like you, I wonder where my youth has wandered off to.

    And, by the way, you're not a "wanna be writer", you're really good! Keep it up. I look forward to your posts.

  3. Jen, you seem so strong to me. I like your attitude and ambition.

    Gary, Thanks for the kind words. I will keep cranking out the posts as long as people are willing to read them. I have always had a love for writing, I just never thought it was anything that people would want to read. I'm pretty new to the blogging world and I'm having a lot of fun with it.

  4. Bah. You're just a baby.

    It's like the comment my friend made the other day. She pulled out a photo that was taken 10 years ago. She thought she was 'fat' (not) and wanted to lose weight. Now she looks at that photo and wishes she were the size she was when she was fat!

    36 was a great year for me! Hopefully it will be for you as well!