On Turning Forty-Nine
This past Saturday was my birthday anniversary. I am now officially forty-nine years old. Normally, the passing of my birth date is not something that consumes much of my thought. It usually comes and goes just as any other day. In fact, one year my family and I completely forgot my birthday for nearly two weeks.
This year is different. First, forty-nine sucks. It really does. I think it is right up there with 25 or 32. And maybe 11. Forty-nine feels like being stuck in a holding pattern, somewhat like trying to fly into O’Hare during the winter. Forward progress has stopped but the trip isn’t over yet.
Second, I am not yet fifty. That benefit of entering the wizened older years hasn’t come. Those jokes about being forty-something don’t seem to really work anymore. “Flight Pastor Bluejeans, please descend to twenty-five thousand feet and hold for further clearance.”
Maybe it is because now I reflect on those goals and dreams I had made when I was much younger. Earn a thousand dollars in annual salary for every year I am old. Take a bike tour of Peru. Build a hot rod my wife and I could cruise around town in on a warm summer evening.
I haven’t made it to any of those goals. Came close a few times. But haven’t quite accomplished them. The worst part of it is. They don’t seem to be all that important anymore.
Maybe that is what forty-nine is for. A year to realize some things will never happen. A year to reflect on what I have accomplished. A year to make peace with what will be.
I have been thinking about goals for myself as I approach the magic fifty. Things like helping my children through college and professional school. Spending more “just us” time with my wife. Doing more writing, maybe even try to get something published. Figuring out how to get that damn VCR from blinking the time.
The nice thing about a holding pattern is you know they have to let you land…eventually. Someone is watching out for you, keeping you separated from others who are circling around. Since you are already late you don’t have to worry about making deadlines. I think I’ll relax and enjoy the flight. Look out the window for a while and think of amusing things to do with the airsick bag. If I miss my connection maybe I’ll buy a bike and go to Peru.
This year is different. First, forty-nine sucks. It really does. I think it is right up there with 25 or 32. And maybe 11. Forty-nine feels like being stuck in a holding pattern, somewhat like trying to fly into O’Hare during the winter. Forward progress has stopped but the trip isn’t over yet.
Second, I am not yet fifty. That benefit of entering the wizened older years hasn’t come. Those jokes about being forty-something don’t seem to really work anymore. “Flight Pastor Bluejeans, please descend to twenty-five thousand feet and hold for further clearance.”
Maybe it is because now I reflect on those goals and dreams I had made when I was much younger. Earn a thousand dollars in annual salary for every year I am old. Take a bike tour of Peru. Build a hot rod my wife and I could cruise around town in on a warm summer evening.
I haven’t made it to any of those goals. Came close a few times. But haven’t quite accomplished them. The worst part of it is. They don’t seem to be all that important anymore.
Maybe that is what forty-nine is for. A year to realize some things will never happen. A year to reflect on what I have accomplished. A year to make peace with what will be.
I have been thinking about goals for myself as I approach the magic fifty. Things like helping my children through college and professional school. Spending more “just us” time with my wife. Doing more writing, maybe even try to get something published. Figuring out how to get that damn VCR from blinking the time.
The nice thing about a holding pattern is you know they have to let you land…eventually. Someone is watching out for you, keeping you separated from others who are circling around. Since you are already late you don’t have to worry about making deadlines. I think I’ll relax and enjoy the flight. Look out the window for a while and think of amusing things to do with the airsick bag. If I miss my connection maybe I’ll buy a bike and go to Peru.
posted by Pastor Bluejeans at 1:58 PM
1 Comments:
You're almost exactly 10 years older than me (Oct. 14, 1966). I'm looking ahead to 40 next year. I was ordained at 35 (and three quarters).
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