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Birthdays- When one is younger, you can’t wait for the next one.
I remember back when I was nine years old, I couldn’t wait until I was
10, when I would hit double figures. Then, when I was 12, I couldn’t
wait until I hit 13 and was considered an official teenager.
The next birthday milestone for most teens is 16 and the
much-anticipated passport to freedom- one’s driver’s license. When I
hit 18, the legal drinking age was still 21. I thought it strange I was
old enough to vote, or get drafted and become cannon fodder in Vietnam,
but not old enough to belly up to the bar. By the time I turned 19,
Minnesota dropped the legal age to consume alcohol to 18. The day that
occurred, I didn’t go rushing to the local watering hole for my first
drink. I didn’t want to get trampled by all the 18-year-olds.
Once I hit 21, I guess I really didn’t care to celebrate any more
birthdays. I’m not saying I didn’t appreciate the cards I received
every year from my sisters or my mom and dad, and later on my wife or
daughter. To me, once you’ve gotten so old, a birthday is just another
day.
Some people make a big deal out of their spouse or friends hitting 40
or 50. Usually the half-century mark includes black balloons, extra
witty cards, and some go as far as surprise parties. I don’t mind the
surprise parties…not for me, of course, but I’ve made quite a bit of
money during the past 25 years as a musician, playing for 50th birthday
parties.
I can see observing some of the more significant milestones when one
gets older…75th, 80th, 90th, and 100th birthdays. Those are certainly
worth celebrating. But 33, 42, 47, or 54? I’d just as soon forget
celebrating those days, and consider them just another day.
I was so glad when I hit the half century mark a few years ago, my wife
and friends didn’t conspire to surprise me with a big shin dig. Like I
said, I don’t mind performing for them (hey a free ad!), but I really
wouldn’t want to be the guest of honor.
It’s not that I mind growing older. Well, maybe a little. But as one
wise sage told me, the alternative to growing older really isn’t that
appealing.
I turned 54 on Monday, Feb. 18. My daughter, who will be 14 in two
weeks, teased me saying, “Your birthday must be pretty important this
year Dad. It’s a national holiday. I don’t even have to go to school
Monday. Do you have to go to work?” She already knew the answer to that
question!
Not too long ago I watched a program on the History channel, where they
interviewed a number of persons who had surpassed the century mark.
Most were very happy with their lives, and quite philosophical about
being 103 or 105.
And as one charming lady, who was 108 years young said, “I never really consider myself old…until I look in the mirror.”
I guess age really is just a state of mind.
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