40.
4-0.
Forty.
FORTY.
Cripes, 40.
Ahem, sorry, I’m just getting used to saying (or typing) that out loud. Honestly, it’s taking a little time for me to get groovy with that number.
But, alas, with just under three weeks until the big day cometh, I’d better come to grips with the fact that I’m officially old. At least I’m old by the standards I set when I was a teenager. In fact, by those standards, I’m not just old. I’m a Geritol-sucking, left-turn-signal-forever-blinking, sweater-wearing-in-July, dentures-in-a-glass-by-the-sink, liver-spots-on-my-arms old.
Strange thing is…I really don’t feel old. Sure, some things are different now than they were when I was 20, but for the most part, I still feel like the 20-year-old I left behind in the Bush Part I era (I guess, sadly, some things really don’t change).
Upon further inspection, however, I know that there are a variety of ways in which my life has changed, for the better. I might still be 40 and not at all cool anymore by today’s teenage standards, but I do know there are a variety of ways in which I’m better off as I begin my 40th trip around the sun.
Bye-bye, Mullet
Perhaps the single largest headline-grabbing change I’ve made in the last 20 years was finally ditching the mullet that sat atop my head like a tired little woodland creature for far too long. In its heyday, the much-maligned mullet was a perfectly acceptable way to coif one’s ‘do. For more than a decade, some of the day’s biggest stars wore their hair in the ever-popular business in the front, party in the back style that has today, earned the unfortunate “mullet” moniker. Back in the day, however, we didn’t call them mullets. We just called it a hairstyle and at worst, if your mullet was really long in the back, we said you had long hair. Today, however, sporting a mullet is a little like shopping without pants. It just draws unwanted attention.
Unfortunately for me, however, I wore my mullet off and on for a bit too long – into the late-1990s. Unfortunately, that was about eight years too long I expect. According to Wikipedia.com, the hairstyle was popular until the early 90s, so the fact that I kept mine until 1998 means I was just a little past the times. As you can see from this picture, it was a great look for me in the day. Of course, I have worse pictures of me with this unfortunate hairstyle, but I am fortunate enough that all of those pictures were taken with standard film cameras and thus don’t exist digitally anywhere that I am aware of. I plan to keep it that way. I might want to run for office one day…
Today, I sport a radically shorter ‘do that involves the copious use of clippers with no guard. Were it to be a little less spiky on top, I believe the military folks out there might call it a high and tight. The biggest advantage to this hairstyle over the mullet is, of course, that I am far more aerodynamic and thus, I run much faster now—even at 40—than I did in my teens.
Have AAA; Don’t Usually Need It
My first car was without a doubt, the coolest car I’ve ever owned. It was a 1979 midnight blue over silver-blue Camaro Rally Sport. The rumble at startup was enough to make the young girls cry. Unfortunately, it also was seriously prone to breaking down—something it did with alarming frequency. While it looked as good sitting dead at the side of the road as it did cruising down the highway at 120 mph, I spent far more time at the side of the road than was reasonable.
After investing literally thousands into new paint, chrome mags, custom exhaust and a stereo system, I discovered that I had to spend thousands more on more important things. You know, things like alternators, spark plugs, belts, carburetors (remember those?), and other things that made it go. On a journalist’s salary, keeping that car running was just slightly easier than bathing a cat.
In 1992 or so, I parked it for the last time in lieu of a vehicle that actually ran reliably, though it looked far less cool than its predecessor. Every vehicle since has had its good points, though none of them sound as throaty or go as fast. Of course, breaking down now is something that almost never happens, which is a good thing. Unfortunately, the young girls don’t break down into sobs when I go past in my run of the mill SUV, but I’m learning to deal with it.
See Ya, Super Chicken (Hello Pillsbury Dough Boy)
You might think this segment is my lame attempt to justify the spare tire around my waist (and you’d be right) but one of the best things about the last 20 years is that my friends can no longer call me Super Chicken. This was an unfortunate nickname I earned while in high school (thanks to my brother) because even at 6-foot-5, I weighed a mere 185 pounds soaking wet and wearing a snowsuit. When I graduated high school, my waist size was, believe it or not, 30 inches. If I turned sideways and stuck out my tongue, I looked like a zipper. Today, I wouldn’t be referred to as skinny, I expect. No, today, I think you might hear me referred to as a well-fed Hoosier boy. I can live with that.
Hiya, George (and Abe, and Jackson)
Not to be materialistic or anything, but the fact that I now have more than a couple of dollars in my wallet at any given moment is perhaps one of the biggest blessings of reaching middle age. Seriously, there was a day when I was digging through the couch cushions, looking for spare change so that I could afford Taco Bell and a six-pack of Old Milwaukee Light. Today, at least, I can just reach into my wallet when I want to dine on Qdoba and wash it down with a few cold Miller Lites. Obviously, my tastes have matured as well. I’m certainly not wealthy by any stretch, I’m officially past the wonder how I’m going to pay my rent portion of my life.
I Fought the Law (And the Law Didn’t Win)
Another great thing about being 40 is not wondering if arrest warrants might be out on me. Not that I was exactly a bad kid, but let’s just say that I was no stranger to some less than legal activities. I think the statute of limitations has run out on anything I might have done in the early 80s, but just in case, I’ll not go into details here. Suffice it to say that I am now a squeaky clean, mostly square, and entirely boring 40-year-old who bitches about the creepy teenager next door and from time to time says things like, “What’s wrong with kids these days?”
Do You Feel Lucky, Punk? Well, Do Ya?
There was a time when I had a very weak grasp on mortality. Like most kids (boys in particular) I had a sense of invincibility that led me to pull some purely stupid stunts. It wasn’t that I was exactly reckless, but I think like most young males, I had this ridiculous belief that things would always shake out in my favor. Of course, this led to some beautifully stupid stunts, such as leaping off cliffs into the reservoir at night when I didn’t know how deep it was, to driving excessively fast through tight curves, or to drinking enough to stone an entire rugby team. Of course, I’d probably be doing some of that stuff if it didn’t hurt so bad now, but the fact of the matter is that I don’t do crazy crap like that any longer and that fact alone will probably add a fiver or more to my lifespan.
Huggies vs. Pampers
Before the birth of my daughter nearly seven years ago, I didn’t know the first thing about parenthood. Those of you out there who are parents know that this kind of training is generally received on the job under a lot of pressure. While there have been some hiccups along the way, I’ve come a long way in my maturation as a father. And I can, unbelievably, extol the virtues of Huggies over Pampers, as well as a thousand other things that I almost can’t believe. Sometimes, when I listen to some of the things coming out of my mouth when speaking to my daughter, I think “wow, that’s without a doubt the first time you’ve ever strung those words together in that order.” Things such as “Honey, you really shouldn’t touch the doggie’s privates,” really are things that only a parent finds himself uttering (unless, of course, he’s a total nutjob). I can say, without a doubt, however, that I’ve gotten more joy out of this Daddy experience than I’d have ever thought possible. I’m still hip and all. Really, just ask my little girl.
I Caught the Clapp
(I’m sorry, but that subtitle made me laugh out loud).
Seriously, my lovely bride’s maiden name was Clapp and it’s given me no end of joy to announce from time to time that I have indeed caught the Clapp. Joking aside, she and my daughter, Alexa, are what make my world go around now and they are why turning 40 is worth doing. Otherwise, I’d probably still be living in a really dated bachelor’s pad and eating really unhealthy food while sitting on furniture that doesn’t match.
Hell, I might’ve even considered growing that mullet back by now…
