Man of a Certain Age



Please excuse the language in the above. Then again, if you’re still out shopping for my birthday present, I could use that in a poster.

I’m 56 today. Officially in my latter 50s. And yes, you can be darned sure that I’ll be rocking those discounts any time I can find them. I’m really only disappointed that I have to wait another four years for them to apply at the movies.

The view from here isn’t so bad.

I wish I was in better health. It’s not that bad, but I could do with less weight and less arthritis. And in that regard I wish I’d been more diligent about dropping the weight 20-30 years ago when it was easier.

I wish our finances were stronger. We’re not going without. We have everything we need and a good bit more. But the Obama economy has made life more difficult for all of us to juggle that cash flow. Sure, that’s political. But a majority of the country now believes that he’s the worst president since World War II [The Washington Times]. When you’re a progressive who has lost Quinnipiac, you know you’re in trouble.

I’m proud of both of my sons. They’ve not yet arrived and part of me wishes that they had and were able to go ahead and buy us that beach house. But they’re reaching for their dreams. That’s a good thing.

Life has its challenges. But, it’s not so bad.

Still, like the gentleman in the picture, I’m losing my filters. I’ve always had a low tolerance for arrogance and bull crap. I have even less these days.

But I still have enough of my southern upbringing and Christian college social seminar to not always say what I’m thinking. And perhaps with age there comes the wisdom of knowing when to pick your battles.

Or, maybe I just need a nap.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m far from checking out. I figure I’ve still got another good twenty to thirty years to write, act and eventually even get out those paints and brushes.

If not, that’s okay too, because I have a hope and a future.

I’m really not big on birthday celebrations. My family knows that, above all, I hate surprises.

Still a little song doesn’t hurt. Below is my favorite version. It was written by a good college friend. Our quartet would roam the cafeteria singing it to the latest victim. Dan’s recorded it and put it on YouTube.

It’s not as funny as it used to be.

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