I sit here on the day before my 40th birthday and ponder what my life will amount to when I'm gone. I mean, let's be honest here, we all want to be remembered for something other than just "being' here.
It's funny; I don't "feel" 40; whatever that means. But I'm certain as the body begins to break down, the pains, and the near-sightedness, and other issues associated with getting old will come. I don't fear getting old, because it seems to me nothing more than a state of mind. I'm in fair shape for being inactive for the past year or so. I guess when a person, especially a man, reaches this magical number, he begins to question his own mortality. "How much longer do I have?", you ask yourself. None of us really knows. I could die tomorrow and wouldn't be a bit surprised.
I have long thought that I would never live to see my 60th birthday. I'm not really certain why, and I don't have empirical evidence to back that feeling up. Just a gut feeling, I guess. I believe that a fair part of our mortality can be attributed to our significant other; spouse; lover; whatever. In my previous marriage I could have guaranteed you that I would not make it to my 60th. And quite frankly, there were many times that I didn't want to. (Pretty bad, right?) But I have since found my soul mate and the absolute woman of my dreams in my wife and I think that I'd like to hang around for a little bit longer. She and I have alot to do....alot of 'catching up" to do.
It's strange how we view age in relation to our own age. I've always thought that my Dad was younger than his physical age. I've got some pretty good genes working in my favor. If I recall correctly, I think Dad got carded for cigarettes when he was 40+. (Although I ordered a beer at Wasabi's last night. The dude next to me was asked for I.D. and I was not = reality check)
Anyway turning 40 isn't what I thought it would be, and I'm certainly not ready for the annual Dr. Jellyfinger visits!!!
