Hello again ATS!
If you have opened this thread hoping for something inspirational or even cogent, you are probably going to end up disappointed. The fact of the
matter is that I am now two sentences into this OP and have absolutely no idea
where it is headed. As things pan out I think that you will see
( and possibly agree ) that this complete lack of a coherent vision for what I want to say is actually thematically fitting. Maybe even downright
poetic, all things being equal.
It seems that I might be having an existential crisis about the existential crisis that I was already having.
A few weeks ago I reached a milestone in life. Well, I suppose that is the term others would use for what happened. To me it felt less like a
and much like what it would probably feel like to get drunk enough to pick a bar fight with Brock Lesnar, only to have a last moment
sober realization of what was about to happen to you. A sinking feeling. A feeling of unavoidable and absolutely impending doom.
The event in question... My fiftieth birthday.
Fifty years. Half a century. Five decades. Two thousand six hundred weeks. Eighteen thousand two hundred eighty eight days.
Fifty freaking years.
All things considered, I am relatively certain that it was about a month ago that I was in my early twenties, sitting in a bar and laughing at people
who were in their late thirties - saying "You're way closer to the grave than I am Grandpa". I mean it feels
like it was not that long ago. The
memories are still so crisp and vivid. The images still awash in total clarity.
Then it dawns on me that I have not stepped foot in a bar since sometime in the late 2007 to early 2008 range. This realization makes it all that much
more shocking to me because 2007/2008? Really? Feels
like last damn week...
Still. The cursed fifty day came and went without me going into too much of a panic. Age is only a number. Right? I've still got a full head of long
blonde hair. Sure, there are a few lightish, whitish hairs in the temples now... but you really have to look for them to see them. I'm still in good
shape and with a few
sit-ups a day I could get rid of the minor "Dad bod" stomach I am currently carrying around. The young males in my world
still know better than to cross me and will tell you in a heartbeat that I can and would throw them to the ground with a quickness if they ever pushed
me into doing so. I'm not OLD! Nope, nope, nope, nope, NOPE!
These are the mantras that have kept me sane for the past twenty-four days. Until today that is.
Today my daughter, my youngest child, my baby.... turns eighteen. My baby is an adult as of today... And, damn it... that means that I am actually
old. I am a fart. I am a grumpy old man. I am a coot. I am a curmudgeon. I can no longer deny it. I am freaking old.
I don't feel ancient. I don't have any specific memories of Moses or dinosaurs or some dude named Noah inviting me onto any boats.
Then again I do remember having a black and white television when I was really little. Not because we were poor or it was some super cheap bedroom
accessory... but because that
was what most people had in their living rooms at that time.
I remember the milkman coming to our house every morning and leaving milk, eggs, bread and snacks in a metal frame rack that sat on our front
I remember every
store in town being closed on Sunday.
I remember cops being comically overweight guys with bad mustaches and blue suits who hung out in the neighborhood rather than occupying it.
I remember when cars from Detroit were the envy of the world and I could not wait to turn sixteen so that my mom could give me her 1972 Gran Torino
I remember when sticks were toys, bicycles were the ultimate expression of freedom, curfew was "darkish". Mom and Dad left their keys in their
ignitions 24/7 and we never locked the front or the back door.
I remember when "gaming" meant pulling out a box that contained a board, some small pieces of paper and metal and dice.
I remember when outside
was the only place I wanted to be, not someplace that I only went if I absolutely had to.
Dear God... I am old.
It happened so fast! Why is science not doing anything about time, huh? I'm not saying that they should stop aging... Aging is natural. But they could
figure out a way to slow time down... Because it seems like somebody turned the flux capacitor way past 1.21 gigawatts.
Or is it just me?
edit on 8/7/16 by Hefficide because: Because "bar fight" makes much more sense than "bar right"