At first, it was just one or two, but
gradually the wave built until it was a tsunami of birthday
celebrations with just about everyone I know being clobbered by the
big 5-0.
My high school classmates and many
people I work with and go to church with are succumbing to the
half-century mark with alarming frequency.
It seems like I can not open FaceBook
anymore without seeing someone being consumed by the five-decade
milestone.
But the more candles on your cake the
better off you are.
I can remember when I turned 20 –
sort of. It was a party and a good time. It was a little more
concerning when I turned 30 because for some reason, that was a big
number for me.
I really appreciated my youth and 30
was definitely not a kid anymore.
Even at 29 you could say, 'Hey I'm
still in my 20s,' but at the stroke midnight on the day I was born
the calendar decreed I was no longer a 20-something. I was now a
30-something and that felt different for some reason.
By the time I was 31 I had two little
kids to worry about and a couple years later the third installment of
the Handschuh clan made an appearance so I was far too busy – and
tired – to really worry about 40 that was coming at me like I was a
deer in the middle of the road, blinded by the oncoming high beams of
middle age.
Forty did not come with dread, but was
pushed to the side as the chaos of life with three kids took
precedent over being concerned with becoming an old guy,
Fast forward nine years and nine months
and I am once again staring an age milestone in the face.
This time, however, the kids are older,
more independent giving me more time to play the part of a deer that
is about to get splatted by the oncoming freight train that is Father
Time.
In three months, I will no longer even
be a 40 something, but will cross that great divide of age and be a
50 something.
OK, so what does a 50 something act
like? I still like motorcycles, like I did when I was 20. I am still
doing martial arts, like I did when I was 30. I am the oldest person
in my martial arts club, by the way and everyone knows the single
most important rule the club has is 'Don't hurt the old guy.'
If my fellow - and much, much younger
– students remember just one thing, I hope that is it. For the
majority of the people in the club I am old enough to be their
parent, and for the little kids even a grandparent and I...Whoa, hold
it, I just crossed a line. I am not willing to refer to myself as a
grandpa just yet.
Grandpas, and grandmas, are old. I mean
my dad was 52 when he became a grandpa and I...uh oh.
Hmmm, I know my own grandpa always
seemed old, but he would have been in his 50s when his grandchildren
started showing up.
I am not saying there is anything wrong
with being a grandparent and I admit it will be kind of cool to be
able to play and have fun with little kids until I get tired and then
just hand them over to their parents, but I am not ready to go there
just yet.
How can I be a rebel, a renegade, a
free spirit if I am a grandpa. It just does not seem right.
It is just another aspect of reaching
the half century mark I am trying to wrap my brain around.
Before you can be old and wise, you
have to be young and stupid. I did very well in the young and stupid
department, now I just need some of that wisdom to kick in.
Copyright 2014 Darren Handschuh
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