I'm 40 today. You might like to read my ruminations on turning 35, because it might be fun to compare and contrast my attitude then to how much I've brightened since.

 

I'm halfway to being dead, or closer. Probably closer. My friend Rosalie tries to cheer me up and say that, even if it's true, I have 40 years left ahead of me. Sure. That's what John Lennon said. I shouldn't compare myself to John Lennon even though, just like him, I have absolutely zero musical talent. For one thing, John Lennon was incredibly famous and was stalked and killed by a maniac. Maniacs hardly ever stalk and kill overweight 40 year old single dads.

 

I don't know why it's supposed to make me feel better, anyway, that I have 40 years left. The last half of baseball games or rollercoaster rides or sexual encounters are always way better than the first half (WAY better), but life is not like that. My first 40 years were relatively free of high blood pressure and heart attacks and worrying about losing weight, worrying about my kids and planning for retirement; I have a feeling that the last half will not be so much.

 

 

I think it's kind of like the show Smallville. In the old days, when you had shows like The Greatest American Hero or The Incredible Hulk, there would be some big problem and they would solve it, and then there would be dinkly piano music and David Banner would wander off down the road, or Ralph and Pam would have coffee and make fun of Bill.

 

On Smallville, they have a big problem or a mutated freak of the week, they solve it in 45 minutes and then they spend the last 15 minutes talking about how they feel. They do it every single week, and in that way it is probably much more like how real life is. Because it seems like now all the action is over and I'm just going to sit around talking about it for the next 40 years and then die.

 

My kids are probably like special guest stars who will spin off into their own series. But that's off the subject.

 

 

Because, damn, 50 is old.