Slowly, I turned

True Confessions

Photo by Morten Andreassen on Unsplash

I will be 66 in less than a month, on June 6.

The symmetry of my age and birth date aligning is rather neat. It’s not a golden birthday, nor a diamond one. I don’t think there’s a special name for it. It feels special, though.

6666. Devilish indeed, and please don’t call me Damien. In Numerology, the number 6 is considered “the mother of numbers” and “6 folk are the glue that holds together the community…the one that others lean on” if you ascribe to that sort of thing.

What I am trying to come to terms with is this aging thing. In The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway wrote about bankruptcy occurring “gradually, then suddenly.” The same can be said for aging; I can’t validate the bankruptcy side.

Actually, I am told fairly often that I don’t “seem” my age. I take that as code for I don’t act or look my age, whatever that actually means. What does 66 act or look like? This guy?

“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.” - Robert Frost

Sometimes I feel my age, but “feeling it” has still not settled in, physically or psychically.

Maybe that’s because we had children relatively late - I was 38 when Sam arrived and 43 for Ben. They have kept me mentally young by exposing me to new things; some good, and some not so much.

Or maybe it means that I’ve become less conservative as I age (true) or more irreverent (also true, but I’ve always skewed humorously skeptical — think Monty Python.)

It could also mean that as I’ve aged I have become more tolerant of little annoyances, although my family will vigorously contest that. Maybe it means that I seem more comfortable where I am — again, that’s contestable.

“You don't stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.”
- George Bernard Shaw

We are the sum of our experiences as well as our genetics. I am fortunate in the former being robust and varied, while the latter is still up for judgement.

As David Byrne once asked, “Well, how did I get here?”

My parents met because each was best friends with one of the other’s siblings. The younger version of my father was athletic and gregarious; my mom more reserved and intellectual. It was not a marriage made in heaven, but it worked, producing four offspring. I am the oldest of the three males. Mom passed young (59) and dad succumbed to Alzheimer’s at 85. So it goes.

There is a history of heart disease, substance abuse and mental illness in my lineages and so far I have escaped those fates. There is also a legacy of love, empathy and compassion; I came from a family of huggers and kissers. So come here and get one, bubbeleh.

As a youth, I was short, chubby, had a big brain and a mouth to match. That led to some predicaments, as I was also very slow afoot. I am no longer young, but the other attributes hold fast.

I was raised Catholic, then Jewish, have been exposed to Sufism and Buddhism, and have become a Spinoza-ist. I believe that there is no anthropomorphic god, only nature, to which we are all connected. We all emerge from and descend back into the same ether. What we have now is what there is.

I started college aspiring to be a sportscaster, but gravitated to journalism when I realized that my mouth usually got me in trouble and my gifts were a facility with the written word and a desire to make a difference.

I have had a career (actually several) that has usually involved some public-facing component, either directly or behind the scenes.

I had a first row seat for many organizational dramas and executive theatrics. My experience in the corporate world provided me with an opportunity to see, learn and grow beyond what I could have imagined. Ultimately, my corporate service conflicted with my world view.

I am introvert, an INFJ. I am idealistic, with a very strong moral orientation (a trait common among INFJs.) I can be self-righteous, I am told, though I prefer to call it stubbornly persuasive. I got tired of capitalist greed and boorish behavior. (Narrator: his absence did not improve things.)

And while I have never sought to lead others, that fate seems to attach to me. So be it: Amor Fati!

Above all, I am and have always been restless…looking ahead for the next learning experience. I probably would have been diagnosed with having ADHD as a child, if that were a thing then. As an adult, I have quelled my demons by learning to focus and plan. Sometimes that actually helps.

Thankfully, my life partner anchors me when I become un-moored, mostly. I am fortunate to have found someone whose sensibilities match my own, and when they conflict, manages to ignore me and do her own thing. Together, over nearly 40 years, we have created a wonderful life. And two pretty cool human beings.

Next year, I plan to retire from day-to-day management of organizational things.

I do not want to rage at the dying of the light, but neither will I go away quietly. I want to continue to experience, observe, write and stay engaged.

“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made.” - Robert Browning

I am hoping to spend my 66th birthday at a D-Day protest, if I can find one being held locally. (I’d better mark that as a personal day on my work calendar.)

Being birthed on the anniversary of that event has provided me with a sobering annual reminder of the sacrifice others have made to provide the stability and security many are now taking for granted, or worse.

I am grateful for what I have, and can laugh at the foibles of humanity in general, but life at present is much too difficult for way too many for me to take a victory lap.

As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

L’chaim!

“With Mirth and Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come.” - Shakespeare