One of the advantages of getting old is the great people that you meet through the years. Some of you I’ve known – literally – my whole life. Some for a shorter time. And some I knew briefly and you have returned unexpectedly here in these pages.
I am grateful for all of you.
I’m a big believer that we are complex – yet simple – beings: a body, a mind, and a spirit.
Bodily … well … although the calendar only says 47, as the saying goes “It ain’t the years, baby, it’s the mileage!” Some days, I confess, I feel a bit dyslexic – more like 74 than 47.
I don’t watch a lot of TV, but one show I do watch is Mike Holmes. I love how he walks into a place and says “Yeah, it looks good on the outside, but what about the structure? It’s all got to come down.”
Sometimes I think he’s talking directly to me. Sure, I look good (some would say great – thanks Mom) on the outside, but what about the structure?
However … I can still get around. I can have a laugh and sing a song (Sorry, Carole Burnett). I can give and receive a hug, and I can still tell lame jokes.
My sons are convinced I’ll be able to tell bad jokes with my last breath. I hope they are right.
Life, when you look at it in a big chunk, is pretty great. Oh sure, there are times that are tougher than others; that just sets you up for a greater experience as you get through it.
How could you appreciate the highs if you didn’t know the lows?
I haven’t learned a lot, but I do know this: You get to choose whether to laugh or cry through life.
Both are appropriate at different times.
Given the choice – and, let’s face it, we always have the choice – I choose to laugh as much as I can.
If I’m 47 bodily (or 74 – you decide), I am … sadly … stuck at a much younger age mentally. I always say that most guys I know are stuck at their shoe size. OK, I don’t always say that, but it’s probably pretty close.
Personally, I’m probably stuck – mentally – around 12.
I’m mature for my size.
This means I like shows where a guy gets:
1) a pie in the face
2) a ball in the groin
3) a slap in the face for farting during a meal at a fancy restaurant
Yes, you should definitely feel for my wife. She’s a saint, I tell you. (Are women saints, or is that a male term?)
And spiritually? I’m younger still. Maybe 6. I still love to make up stories and tell them. I like to laugh and get others to do the same. And I probably live in a make-believe world.
Children and old ladies love me. It’s just everyone else in between …
Ain’t life grand!
Thanks to you, friends. You have made the first 47 fly by – exciting and fun like they were when you couldn’t wait for school to start when you were a kid. Or when you knew that the big gift in the living room was a new bike. Or when you were driving to pick up the date that you knew was “the One.” Or when your kids were born.
Or when a re-run of Charlie’s Angels comes on. You know – one with Cheryl Ladd. Oh yeah. That brings back ….
Sorry, lost my train of thought.
So many great memories, and I look forward to creating at least another 47 years’ worth with you.
Thanks for the birthday wishes. Be good to each other.