While all the world was – and still is - rockin’ and reeling over Trump’s Tariffs and the weekend’s utterly laughable Soros-funded “Hands Off” demonstrations, their Silly Signs competition and bored Boomers supplementing their SS checks in their resurrected tie-died outfits, something usual occurred Saturday: my birthday.
It may not be universal, but considering my personal experience, certain birthdays had more significance than others.
10 – I’m not a kid anymore; my age was in double digits!
13 – Teenager!
17 – Driver’s License! (in New Jersey anyway)
18 – Legal drinking (in New York anyway)
21 – Certified Adult: old enough to vote!
Over time, I’ve concluded that there comes a point when the celebration of birthdays becomes irrelevant; the precise year may differ for each of us. For me, it was 21. By then, I had started smoking, conquered puberty, got my driver’s license, lost my virginity several times, finished school, bought some guns, and voted. By then, it was clear I would never get a pony. Having real guns, a Daisy Red Ryder 500 Shot Carbine was never on my Wish List. By 21, it was clear I wouldn't be marrying Lauren, my high school steady, so what’s left?
Thanks to a series of life-altering events I’m saving for my soon-to-be-published best-selling autobiography, the serious side of life began: job, marriage, kids, and mortgage. Birthdays were for the children; anniversaries were for adults. And yet…
Friends and contemporaries found a measure of relevance in the Gateway Birthdays. 29 - Gateway to the angst of the ’30s. 40’s, Gateway to (gasp!) Middle Age! 50’s – Prime of Life! 60’s – the Downside Begins: Medicare, kids graduating, marrying; retirement. The 70s – gray hair, “things” start to hurt, the bathroom looks like a pharmacy. The 80’s – grandkids visit, doctor visits, sell the bass boat; learn Bridge, Shuffleboard, Corn Hole, and other low-impact sports. 90’s – National Geographic specials, ESPN re-runs, “where-are-my-glasses”? 100’s – TV interviews about the Secrets of Ageing, Special Discounts at restaurants, bars, bowling alleys, and strip joints. Beyond that, I don’t know – haven’t gotten there yet!
Looking back in retrospect (is there any other way?), some time in there, “things” start to fall apart, a result of impertinent activities from misspent Youth: jumping out of trees playing Superman, bike wipe-outs, football owies, one superb car wreck, and similar idiocy. While each event is its own wrinkle in time, ultimately they blend into this glorious montage of blood ‘n guts bravado, “night moves”, unquestionably stupid mistakes, and even a few accomplishments of which one could be genuinely proud.
But “birthdays”? Meh. “Happy Hour” comes around once a day!
OTOH, birthdays may still serve a practical, even healthy purpose. They provide a non-holiday imposed Time Out from the daily grind of taking on the slings and arrows of outrageous Current Events. Birthdays keep you aware of Time. How many grains of sand are left in your life’s hourglass? They also help to appreciate other things that are growing old, especially your spouse and family, your car, and that 2019 bottle of Richard Arrowood’s Reserve Speciale Cabernet Sauvignon lurking in the liquor locker, waiting for the perfect occasion!
Regardless of my general discounting of birthdays, I hope you get to observe your next one (!), and thanks to everyone who dropped a note on Saturday along with some kind words. Special thanks to Mary, Pete, Manny, and Artsy for caffeinating me through the weekend! Only 363 days til the next one!
And now, back to the Kraken!
BW
Extra Credit Reads
Excellent summary of the tariff thing and related issues: How Did We Get There?
About those Democrats and Demonstrations: The “Resistance” or the Drama Club?
Former (and future) guest, Victor Davis Hanson on Trump’s “Just Trade War”
Well, Happy Belated Birthday! BTW, both age and glasses of wine should never, ever be counted. Just saying....
Happy Birthday! I occasionally have to stop and do the math when asked my age. When I was a kid, I always knew how old I was, because so much was riding on the number.