This past Sunday was my fiftieth birthday. I’m not comfortable with birthdays, but this one is seemed even more uncomfortable than usual.
I was pleased however when my sister called me and told me that “fifty is the new thirty-five.” That cheered me right up, because I don’t feel like I’m over the hill.
Then my father, who’s about to turn 90, told me that he doesn’t feel like he’s 89. That put things into perspective. He’s still incredibly active and he assured me that I’ve got his genes.
My wife, who knows me better than anyone else, got me a bunch of presents. In addition to some fine Sauternes, she gave me $1,000 that I can put toward recreational education and training. That’s a perfect gift for me since I make a habit of taking courses in all kinds of activities quite often. Things like sea kayaking, kendo, mountaineering, fiddle, blues guitar, white water kayaking, rock climbing, yoga, home brewing, buddhism, pilates, flower arrangement and wilderness first aid. The list goes on.
If there’s one thing I’ve done well in my life, it’s been trying lots of different things. It’s probably no coincidence that I started trying all of these activities when I was thirty-five and realized that being a workaholic and constantly striving for success was an empty future.
So what’s next? Expect more of the same, I say. Being unpredictable and non-categorizable remains my passion. When I become set in my ways, well then I’ll become old.