I am turning forty in 8 days. I am hoping this decade will be easier than the last. My journey thus far has been challenging. It has however, made me strong, confident, beautiful and most of all grateful.
I am the mother of an 18 year old daughter and a 16 year old son. I raised them alone, and I am proud of the people they have become, and honored to be their mother.
I survived Melanoma and Hodgkin’s disease with grace.
I worked full time as a nurse, continued my education to finally complete a Bachelor’s degree all the while raising my family.
I always cooked dinner.
I loved other men, but never settled for less than I deserved.
I was diagnosed as Bipolar when I was 38. Truly the best thing that has ever happened to me. I finally had answers and was able to forgive myself.
I’m turning 40 on July 30. I have mixed feelings, but mostly I feel like it is a beginning.
I have 3 kids, and the youngest will be starting full-day kindergarten in the fall, so I’m thinking that I will start to think about how to fill my days. I’ve been so entrenched in the throws of motherhood for the past ten years that I am looking forward to getting to know me again. And it just happens to coincide with my 40th. I am beginning a new chapter in my life. I look forward to being 40. I’m not sure why…I just think that the best is yet to come. And I have to say, it’s been pretty damn good up until now!
Well, the secret is out! I am turning the big Four-Oh this summer. My goal is to have 40 random acts of kindness done over the month of July…one for every year I’ve been alive! So, think about what you can do to make a difference in someone’s life and then do it!!
There are lots of random acts of kindness ideas out there and, in case you’re not sure where to start, here’s a website you can visit for ideas! http://www.actsofkindness.org/
It must come as a huge shock that I am the big 4-0. I know, I know, I look 30 or at a stretch 35. Must be the extra-virgin olive oil diet I’ve been on since birth. And hardly a wrinkle on my soft, supple skin - it’s amazing. Pamela Airbags Anderson says 40 is the new 20 so I’d better remember to take along my ID the next time I go clubbing.
I have a friend, let’s call her Veronica, who has erased two years from her life. She’s 36 but tells people she’s 34, presumbly to make herself more appealing to men and employers. She even lied to a boyfriend about her age but her cover was blown when he stumbled across her passport and saw her date of birth. Damn that passport! Surprise, surprise: he didn’t dump her because she was 36.
Unfortunately we live in an age-obsessed society where there is a halo around 15-year-old malnourished models but lying about one’s age does not magically make the body younger. There’s no turning back the body clock. Reproductive organs do not adjust to the pretend age like computers automatically adjust to daylight savings time. If only.
It’s unfair that women feel pressured to make time stand still. As men become greyer, they’re seen as debonair counts in smoking jackets, whereas women are discarded as haggard witches. Unless you’re Helen Mirren, who looks mighty hot for 62. She’ll still look hot when she turns 63 in July.
As for the theory that women on TV get boned if they pass an expiry date, there are an abundance of vibrant, mature faces on the box to disprove this: Jo Hall, Jennifer Keyte, Tracy Grimshaw, Kim Watkins, Kerri-Anne Kennerley, Liz Hayes, Lisa Wilkinson, Caroline Jones, Kathy Bowlen, Ellen Fanning, Geraldine Doogue, Sonia Kruger, Ann Sanders, Sandra Sultry, the list goes on. Gretel Killeen used to be on TV before she was evicted from the house.
The queen of the age-deniers is Kerri-Anne, the taut-faced Channel Nine morning-show host who’s in her “mid-50s”, or according to one article I read, in her “mid-40s”. All those early starts must make the memory fuzzy. The Age Diary played pin-point the age on the Kennerley and found she was delivered by the stork in 1953, so she’ll be blowing out 55 candles this year. Will her lungs cope? Now, what’s so bad about admitting she’s 55? She’s a stayer in TV world, she scrubs up well with the help of the “work” she’s had done, and she’s at the helm of a show that brings in millions from advertising fat-busting devices. She should stand proud.
One thing I’ve noticed as my years advance is that Hollywood celebs who were much older than me when I was a youngster seem to be a similar age to me now. I’ve got older but they haven’t. Curious. Maybe they just seemed older when I gazed at them on the telly or maybe they’ve wiped off a few years so they’re more attractive to casting directors. And to prolong their shelf life in the industry. Especially for the famous, it’s futile erasing the years because there’s always the chance a school buddy will emerge and helpfully point out their real age.
I know women who despair at turning 40 because of all the self-reflection that comes with it: married vs defacto vs single, with child vs without child, intentionally barren vs unintentionally barren. Take Pamela Anderson’s approach: you’re as young as you feel, or as young as the men who feel you.
I’d much prefer to state my real age and for people to tell me I look younger (go on, I know that you want to) than to say I’m 35 and hear that I look 40. Now, that would be a waste of a fib.
—
Suzanne Carbone goes where other reporters fear to tread: the red carpet. She has perfected the art of juggling her notepad with a glass of bubbly and a canape, all the while keeping her finger on the pulse of this pulsating town. Celebs - she has met a few. David Cassidy, from the Partridge Family, once stopped a news conference at the Como Hotel to rave about her dress. She even bumped into Barry Humphries in the women’s powder room at Flemington on Derby Day. Alas, not everyone is on the A-list and not all the bubbly is French. Yes, it’s a tough job but she’s just the someone to do it. Check out her blog at http://blogs.theage.com.au/limelight/
What is 40? It is a great song by U2, but that is not what I mean today. Today I turn 40. I have not struggle with turning 40 as some do, but it has caused me to reflect on my life. To tell the truth, I have been reflecting for a month or so on this as I have been heading toward the BIG 40. In my reflecting, I have thought “what positive difference have I made in peoples lives”. This has caused me to think more deeply. I have come up with a life purpose statement as a result of this reflecting. I want to make a positive difference for Christ in peoples live and then in turn see them make a positive difference for Christ in peoples lives. Whether this statement will change or morph over the years I do not know, but I would suspect that it will, but for now this is what I want to see happening. I want my life and my time here on this planet to count for the Kingdom of God both now and for eternity. Do you have a life purpose statement and if you do what is it? Read more from Jim at his blog.
I had written this last year around by birthday. But since I was not updating my blog then, I didn’t publish it then.
The Early Years
On August 15, I turn 40. By standard life expectancy measures, I have probably crossed the half-way mark. Birthdays are a good time to reminisce and look ahead. So, here are my thoughts on my life so far and what I’d like to do in the future.
I was born in Pune in 1967. My father, a civil engineer, had returned from an educational and work stint in the US. He had grown up in Rajasthan. My mother had grown up in Pune. She was 19 years old when she married my father in February 1966. After I was born, she continued to spend more time with her parents in Pune to complete her studies in Arts.
Sometime after that, my mother and I moved to Mumbai (Bombay as it was called then) to be with my father’s family. Ours was a small home, first at Chinchpokli (Byculla), then at Nepean Sea Road, and finally at Mahim. My father had quit L&T a few years ago to start his own consulting practice - as a structural engineer helping design buildings, especially tall skyscrapers.
Mahim was where I spent much of my early childhood. I went to St. Michael’s High School. We lived in Mahim till I was 7 years old. Then, we moved to Siddhartha building on Nepean Sea Road - which was to be our home for the next 30 years. With that, I also changed schools - shifting to St. Xavier’s High School (near Metro).
I was a quiet, studious child. My younger sister, Neeta, was born when I was 5. My mother’s sister lived on the floor below us in the same building. Neeta and my cousins were more of the same age, and interacted a lot more with each other than I did with them. In the building, I was the youngest by a wide margin - and so never quite had deep friendships. It was school and books that brought out the best in me.
I discovered new worlds through reading. Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with the radio. Listening to BBC World Service enriched my life. I’d sit at the window, close my eyes, and listen to the radio for hours. My favourites were the two science programmes, Discovery and Science In Action. I used to even be able to identify the news readers just by listening to their voices!
Academically, I did very well - topping my class. Two of my closest friends are the ones I went to school with. One of the events which brought us close was the Nehru Science Centre Quiz Contest. We beat out everyone else to win that in 1981. I was also fortunate to have some wonderful teachers - and till date, I try and maintain contact with a few of them.
I would spend vacations at my grandparents’ home in Pune. Once a year or so, my parents, sister and I would go to Rajasthan - where my father had set up a marble factory. When I was 14, we went on a packaged tour (SOTC) of Europe. It was around that time I started keeping a diary - a habit which lasted many years. (Even today, every so often, I will write out a page or two of my thoughts.)
College Days
In 1982, after completing the SSC exams, I joined St. Xavier’s College. College was not particularly exciting. Maybe it was the environment. It was a big change from school. I didn’t study as much in the first few months - spending more time in the library reading. I remember getting the shock of my life when I ended up getting 59 out of 100 in Maths! That was it. Back to academics.
Around that time, as I was getting quite bored, my father bought a computer for his office. And that changed my life. Until then, I had wanted to be a civil engineer - just like him. I would accompany him on site visits to see the new construction. The computer came into my life when I was looking for some alternate outlet for my creativity.
I leant BASIC programming from a book. After my classes at college, I would go to my father’s office and write software - mostly games. I remember three games that I created - one which simulated a one-day international cricket match, another one to play Monopoly, and a third one which I called “Mindermast” after the Mastermind game (also known as Bulls and Cows).
I loved spending time on the computer. It was around that time I decided that I wanted to become a computer engineer when I grew up. Perhaps, I thought that my logical thinking was made-for-programming. Or maybe, the reading that I did convinced me that computers were the future. But it would be still many years before I really go to do more programming.
Twelfth standard studying meant joining Agarwal Classes. I also started preparing for IIT. That left very little time to do anything else. My father was also keen that I go abroad for studies - and so I applied to various US universities. As it turns out, I got into IIT (193rd rank in JEE) and had an admission from Carnegie-Mellon. After talking to various people, I decided to stay in India and join IIT - even though I had to settle for Electrical Engineering rather than Computer Science.
It was the four years at IIT that brought out the best in me. Luckily, I didn’t do well academically in the first semester. I focused completely on studying - and ended up not topping my class. That shook my confidence - if after all this time spent studying I could not be the best, then what more could I do? What started as a ‘timepass’ volunteer effort in Mood Indigo in 1985 led me down the path of extra-curricular activities, and I ended becoming the General Secretary (Cultural Affairs) in my final year.
More than anything, IIT helped me open up. I learnt very little in the classroom, but everything outside it. The ‘cack sessions’ with wingmates in the hostel, the late-night chess sessions, participating in student government, organising Mood Indigo 1988, the Himankan trek in the Himalayas - all helped developed aspects of my personality which have stood me in good stead in life.
American Journey
Even as I participated in all the other activities in IIT, I did reasonably well academically - passing out with a CPI of 7.93 on a scale of 10. I got into Columbia University, New York, and in early September 1988, took a Lufthansa flight to JFK. I was now completely on my own. I was 21, but in many ways, had led a fairly protected and sheltered life. School and college had been fun and somewhat carefree. Now, I had to go out and build my career.
When I left India, I was very sure that I would come back within a few years. My father had done the same in the mid-60s, and that was what was expected of me. He did not have any expectation that I would join him. All he said was come back and become an entrepreneur. “Doing something on my own” was what I wanted to do. I had seen my father experiment with many ventures - a few succeeded but many failed. Yet, he never stopped trying.
I completed my Masters in Electrical Engineering in 9 months at Columbia. I took half my courses in Computers - rekindling the love from seven years ago. I still remember the Operating Systems course I took in the first semester. My advisor warned me against it - since I did not the prerequisite of C Programming. I told him - give me a few weeks, and I will learn C. Which is what I did - while I was doing four other courses. Programming came naturally to me - and I enjoyed it.
Living in New York was something else I liked. I discovered Calvin and Hobbes, and a deeper love for books (including Poetry). I also discovered Cooking - no choice there! New York was so much like Bombay - a fast-paced buzz that never left you.
After Columbia, I started looking for a job. It was a tough market - the summer of 1989. Luckily, I got an offer from NYNEX Science and Technology in White Plains, an hour or so from New York City. I accepted and joined in September. NYNEX was at that time one of the Baby Bells, created out of AT&T.
NYNEX was a wonderful learning opportunity for me. I combined my love for programming with ‘business development.’ I got to travel and meet people, make presentations, and build ‘relationships.’ It was as good as it gets - until I reminded myself of my India commitment. And so, in December 2001, I walked into my manager’s cabin and handed in my resignation. It wasn’t easy - the team at NYNEX had become like an extended family. And yet, I knew I had to return to India. Entrepreneurship beckoned - though at that time I had no idea what I would do. After a few months with a company on the West Coast, I returned to India in early May 1992.
Entrepreneurship
I have chronicled my fifteen years as an entrepreneur in detail in an earlier Tech Talk. All I want to say here is that these fifteen years, with all their ups and downs, have been as exhilarating as anything I could have imagined. For me, it is about creating new things, it is about the journey. I have tried fifteen different things in these fifteen years. There has only been one big success. But that has never stopped me from trying or dreaming big. Failure, for me, has been a learning opportunity. And that will never change.
I am currently involved in running Netcore. We are doing some interesting things in the mobile data space. I have also invested in more than a dozen companies - with a thesis that we need to build the digital infrastructure for the India first, and then take these solutions to other emerging markets. I think of these ventures as the Emergic ecosystem.
In the next five years, I hope many of these ventures will succeed. If they do, I will benefit in two ways. I will not only have significant financial resources (and here I means, access to billions of dollars) but also I have the ‘operating system’ for layering the applications that can transform life in India.
For me, money is an instrument of change. I have no interest in leaving a financial legacy and a fat bank balance for our only son. I want to bring about change in India in my lifetime. I want to spend all the money that I earn in my lifetime and while I can - because we are running out of time for India. But I do not have enough for what I want to do (more on that shortly). So, I am using entrepreneurship as a ‘money amplifier.’
The Emergic ecosystem companies will also help create the core elements for building out India’s digital infrastructure. From network computers to broadband equipment, from mobile data services to mobile payments, from leveraging video over broadband to creating books for an increasingly literate population, from rethinking healthcare to using solar energy - companies in the Emergic ecosystem have various elements which can help lay the foundation for the change we want to bring about.
As I look ahead, I would like to help build the New India over the next two to three decades. That, for me, means three things. And in all three ideas, my guide has been Atanu Dey. Atanu has helped me think deeply about the issues that need to be addressed for the development of India - and Indians.
Three Goals
Here are three things I’d like to do in the rest of my life and which will require investments of hundreds of millions of dollars. This is not about philanthropy, but about building the right systems and foundation - in a sort-of self-generating way. Ideally, the Indian government should have been the enabler - but I don’t see that happening with the politicians we have. Indian business has started taking the lead but is not doing this fast enough - and in some cases, is not even doing it right.
First, ensuring access to quality education for hundreds of millions of Indians. Education is a life-enhancer - and nothing comes close. My father was helped by his education to get out of the village he grew up in and created opportunities for himself. How can we do the same for millions in India who are otherwise resigned to a life devoid of opportunity? This is not about trying to build the world’s best school or college, but ensuring that a sustainable and scalable system to provide quality education for everyone in India. For more, read Atanu Dey’s series on Doing Education Right.
Second, we need to build hundreds of new cities to house the hundreds of millions of people who we need to get out from the villages. Our current cities are bursting at the seams. Creating urban slums in not the answer. We need 600 new cities of a million each or 6,000 towns of 100,000 each - or a mix of both. But there is no way we can provide any reasonable future to pockets of 1,000 people living in 600,000 villages. In other words, India cannot afford its villages - and needs to urbanise fast. Else, the demographic dividend will turn out to a big nightmare. Creating these new cities right - in a clean, green, and self-sustainable way - is what I’d like to see us do. For more, read Atanu Dey’s series on Creating India’s New Cities.
Finally, I want to create a Santa Fe-like institution in India. It should be a place where multi-disciplinary thinking is the norm. It should be a magnet for smart people to spend time interacting with the best in different areas so they can forge multiple mental models which can then go out and solve problems right. We go wrong in solutions because we have partial knowledge and so we do not understand the real problem. This leads to what I call brain-dead decisions. An institution like this will ensure that we make the right decisions for the future. It will create a platform for the innovations we will continue to need.
The day after we had sold IndiaWorld for $115 million in November 1999, my wife, Bhavana, told me: “We are custodians of God’s money. If God has given us money at such an early age, there must be something He has in mind for us. We have to utilise this wealth for the greater good.” These are words which have formed the bedrock of my life since then. Till then, I was an entrepreneur trying to prove that I could, even after repeated failures, be successful at least once. Since then, I have come to believe that what good we need to do, we have to do in our present life - while we still have the physical and mental energies.
Turned 40 today and spent most of the day in a funk. Typical behavior for me around birthday time every year. Taking stock and all that…what have I done? What successes can I point to? What have I learned? Who have I helped? I think normal questions at the half-life point (ah if I could only be Cesium, but then again, who wants to live that long?).
Well, the answer came at dinner.
There’s a 5 year old in my house that adores me, and an 18 year old that gave me a wise-ass card about getting old, and a wife that bought a singing card with one of my favorite artists and a special song about love. It’s all good.
So often, the answers lie right in front of us. Someday, I think that God will be more concerned with what I did in this little part of the world than anything else…
Officially, as I am writing this, I have six more days until I turn 40. There’s been no panic yet, no wringing of the hands and no crying or gnashing of teeth.
Just calmness. Really.
A lot of people would circle May 1 on their calendars with a big black marker if they were in my shoes. Most people I know that are turning 40 rank this particular birthday right up there with their joy of flossing. Me, I’m fine with it. Really.
Turning 40 does give you a chance to reflect on things. My 20s were great … wait, change that adjective to delicious. My 30s forced me to deal with a few more “grown up” things and, to tell the truth, I’m kind of looking forward to my 40s.
There are a couple of things, though, that do make me wonder a little bit. When you think about people that have been incredibly successful by the time they are 40, or shortly therafter, it makes you take a little stock in your life.
You think about young 40-somethings like J.K. Rowling - of Harry Potter, Inc. - and how Rowling has changed children’s literature forever. Or Johnny Depp, who was named People magazine’s “sexiest man alive” at age 40.
That kind of success is hard to live up to. I mean, I occasionally collect aluminum cans and I always treat well at Halloween, but I’m no Johnny Depp. Really.
But I do feel young. I have a job that forces me to want to stay young. I am around young people almost every day and I will show no weakness. There might be an occasional “Goo!” when I have to get off the bench in the dugout, or a knee might lock up on a trip up some rickety bleachers, but I plan on being there every day keeping it real. Really.
And I think that’s why I’m not that worried about 40. Okay, I’m worried that someone might put an ad in the paper that says “Lordy, Lordy Look Who’s 40”, but that’s just because it is the most annoying phrase ever uttered.
And, oh yeah, there’s those prostrate exams I am supposed to be scheduling on a yearly basis now, too, but, for the most part, things are cool.
Now a few facts about my birthday:
I share the same special day with Tim McGraw (country) and Calamity Jane (western), yet I hate country and western music. Go figure.
I share the same birthday with Ray Parker Jr. I have no explanation for that, but it is kind of cool.
The Empire State Building was completed on May 1, 1931. We are a lot alike, me and the ESB, we both have a lot of stories.
And, my birthday is a Russian holiday aimed at getting worker’s a shorter work day. Perfect.
My gut feeling is that this coming Thursday will come and go pretty quietly, which is more than I can say for this past year, which had some major developments.
I left a job I had held for over 15 years to come back to my hometown and work which was the first major development of Year 39. I also met a ton of new people, including some awesome co-workers, who make my job a joy every day. Lastly, I got some new wheels.
So if I can make Year 40 as great as Year 39 I will have no worries at all. Really.
For the last year or so, there’s been a book called “The Secret” at or near the top of the nonfiction bestseller list, its reign broken only by Steven Colbert’s outstanding “I Am America And So Can You!” and various other short-term winners. I have no earthly clue what the book’s about, as I tend to regard anyone claiming to have deduced “the secret” to anything with the sort of dubious caution normally reserved for streetcorner Rolex salesmen and infomercials.
However, I’ve discovered a secret of my own that far outweighs anything peddled by any bestselling author or anyone with a bunch of silly college degrees or actual formal schooling: the secret of youth. Specifically, it’s the secret to guys turning 40, like your humble scribe, keeping their youthful outlook and demeanor. All you have to do is wait until your late 30s to start having children.
I spent a lot of years convinced that I had no business proliferating my own sort of genetic weirdness and sending more little Wilsons out into the world. It took a good woman who knew me far better than I know myself and in whom I found endless wonder, challenge and delight to convince me otherwise. Never in my life has a change of mind turned out better. Alex and Cooper, my sons, have taught me that I had only scratched the surface of my capacity to love, and that my capacity for patience still needs quite a bit of work.
It’s not all that sort of touchy-feely stuff, though. Take this afternoon, for example: I piloted my trusty Dodge Ram to the local home improvement joint and purchased one of the largest backyard playsets known to mankind for Alex’s third birthday. According to the trusty apron-wearing fellows who helped me load the boxes into the truck, the assembly will require 24 hours of labor by two people. How long it will take for one moderately skilled suburban dad with a full-time job and two classes this semester remains to be seen. I’m hoping to have it finished before Alex goes to middle school.
I’ve got acquaintances my own age who have kids. Their kids are in high school, heading off to college or threatening to make them grandparents. When I tell them I’ve got a toddler and an infant in the house, their initial reaction is to doubt my sanity and remind me that I’ll be pushing 60 when Cooper graduates high school. Almost always, though, they immediately begin interrogating me as to whether Alex is going to play tee ball, if he’s learned to throw a football yet and when I plan on getting him his own set of golf clubs. I hear a wistfulness in their tone, remembering when parenting was a simpler proposition and Daddy was the unquestioned authority on everything from why rain fell to how birds flew.
While they spend their quality time with their kids visiting college campuses and doing all the other work required before we turn our offspring loose on an unsuspecting world, I spend mine teaching Alex how to dig holes in the mulch pile and working on Cooper’s skills at the all-important art of rolling over. I wash and mix bottles, change diapers, answer myriad “why?” questions and try to explain in as even tones as possible that using crayons to color on the pages of Daddy’s books is not a good thing.
This summer, I have high hopes for teaching Alex the fine art of dangling a piece of Niblets corn in front of a perch in a manner that will cause the fish to pounce on it like a shark on a tourist. Some of my friends are looking forward to taking the tops off their German roadsters. I’m looking forward to teaching Alex the mysteries of the Zebco 404 rod and reel combo.If you’d asked me 20, 10 or even five years ago, I would have given you a list of things I thought I would be, do or have by age 40. Almost none of those, other than the salt-and-pepper hair and penchant for bad puns, have actually come to pass. I find myself not terribly saddened by my inability to Nostradamus my own future. Yes, I’ll be spending the years when most guys are learning new hobbies going to school plays and baseball games … and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I turn 40 on Saturday. If you’re buying me a present, remember that I want it black with black leather interior and at least 8 cylinders. I’m planning on starting my midlife crisis soon, and I’ll need to be ready. Got a rant? A rave? Bigfoot tearing up your petunias? Drop me a line, anytime!
J. Scott Wilson, Food Editor, National Morning Editor, Quizmaster, Columnist Internet BroadcastingVisit us at: www.ibsys.comRead our blog: www.StateofLocal.com
I was born February 21st, 1968, and tomorrow I will become forty years of age.
I don’t know if I feel forty. Half of my soul inside seems still youthful, yet the other half feels ancient from what I’ve witnessed so far in my life. People like me who have been born in the late 60’s and early 70’s have seen so much change in just four decades: computers becoming household items, the fall of the U.S.S.R., and the horror of 9-11 just to name a few incredible and sometimes terrifying world events. We were children in the 70’s and 80’s, assured of a bright future, making wishes on what we wanted to be when we grew up. And then we did grow up, and for many of us our childhood dreams did not come true. We had to settle for working random and temporary jobs compared to our forebears, mostly just to survive in this society whose God is money, not compassion.
I see the world today in my last few hours of being thirty-nine years old and I am worried. Am I going into my forties just to witness yet more government control, our freedoms stripped away in order to “protect us”? Yesterday while I was on the bus I noticed three ceiling cameras monitoring the passengers. It may not seem to be an omen to some, but I have to ask: how invasive will such “security” cameras become to our privacy? Has humanity made true and healthy progress, or are we backsliding into a controlled society worse than the Nazi regime?
We live in a civilization that should be based on compassion but is most assuredly not, and we are run by power-hungry psychopaths. This is not a world into which I feel comfortable growing older; already I feel nostalgia for a past that is gone and great uneasiness towards a future that may not be kind to those of our generation, or anyone of any age.
I have regrets, mistakes I have made and people I have made unhappy. I miss my estranged son each and every day, and I have deep regret in my soul that I haven’t been a father to him. I wish his mother and I could have stayed together, been happy together, but we were just too different and were not good for one another. And I worry very, very much for my son when I see the world today; will his generation inherit a collapsed economy, harsh government control, and even possibly riots for the necessities of life?
Yet there is much in the future to hope for: more and more people are waking up to this grim reality around them and are now working for real change. Many of us of the “Generation X” era are much wiser now, having grown up in a world that often makes us pay heavily for mistakes; but many of us have not learned much at all, being distracted by popular media and choosing entertainment over education. I hope with great sincerity we can use what we have learned to help each other, not just to benefit ourselves individually.
Like many in my generation, I have seen many of my older relatives pass away and I have suffered the loss of a parent. So many of my uncles and aunts are gone now to that bastard Reaper, as well as my father; I remember as a child the family get-togethers every year for Christmas, Easter, New Year’s… but those family gatherings are gone now too, since so much of my family has aged and died.
How many years do we have left now, us in our late thirties and early forties? We are feeling the energy and vigor of our youth fading away each day, no longer do we take our health for granted like many of us did as teen-agers. In two more decades or so we’ll become geriatrics, how’s that for a thought?
We still have time but no longer can we afford to waste it. Every day we grow older, the more we must appreciate the wonder and miracle of Life. Every one of us is a unique creation given the opportunity each and every day to bring love or hate into this world. Just think: in an infinite Universe in a sea of infinite probability we were born; now we’re growing older, no longer do we have the seeming immortality of youth. Time now to us in our generation is a gift to be cherished, not wasted.
So happy birthday to me, I guess. Tomorrow I’ll be forty, I still can’t believe it. But I do believe in and thank whatever Divine Spirit is out there for the family and friendships I have, and for the shelter over my head and the food in my belly. I wish Life would never end, but I know one day it will, so I’ll try my best to make each passing moment a little bit of forever.
SlackerDan is a writer specializing in web content and comedy. He owns the coolest URL on the ‘Net, www.internetslacker.com. If you are a webmaster and/or editor searching for excellent material, please contact him at internet.slacker@gmail.com .
I took most of this past year to wrap my head around the fact that I was about to enter my fifth decade on the planet. Turning 40 is quite an occasion for review, especially given the fact that I pretty much got off the tradition track at age 30. Instead of children I went down the other fork in the road–creative work and spiritual practice having been my main forms through which to learn many of life’s lessons –and the number of this birthday brought that truth up like never before. After a fun evening with the colleagues and pals at the de young (which included attendance of Jello Biafra’s reading about much of his wild ride of a life) today I can say, with complete sincerity, how grateful I am for the wild chances, blatant mistakes, serendipitous moves, and sober choices I’ve made as well as the people, opportunities, grief, love and beauty I’ve experienced because of them. And most of all, the many people I’ve had the priviledge of sharing the learning with. Love and appreciation everyone and here’s to more love, peace, wisdom and joy to us all. Aging really is a good thing.
And wishing happy birthday to my twin brother Scott Crooks at the same time. Go bro!
Excerpted from the article
I’m turning forty next week. It is interesting what this implies in a person’s life. I look around at the people I grew up with and we are all middle-aged. I don’t feel middle-aged- I’m not sure how that is supposed to feel- but I do know that forty is sort of a significant sign post along life’s highway. Hopefully, by forty you’ve gotten some of your stupider impulses out of the way and you understand those things that make life truly rich. I haven’t accomplished some of the things I aimed to do by the time I turned forty, but I’m grateful that I’ve made it this far and I still have the chance to do better tomorrow than I did today.
Not only do we get older but the people who were forty when we were kids have reached sign posts further down the pathway of life. Two nights ago I had my Dad and Art ( he has worked and lived on our ranch for almost fifty years and still lives on the place) over for dinner and visit. They are quite a pair these two well seasoned guys. Art’s legs were crippled by polio as a child, but being horseback meant that he could get a days work done just like everyone else. Now he can’t ride and he can barely walk but he still gets around the ranch in a golf cart observing the everyday doings and offering sage remarks.
My dad’s body is in better shape than Art’s he has new knees and can still get on a horse. However his mind is betraying him and he has trouble remembering what he did today or what he’s supposed to do in an hour, but he can tell you lots of things that happened sixty years ago. My Mom takes dance on Monday nights so usually the dynamic duo of Stan and Art go to my brother’s for dinner, but tonight it was my turn. Together they made it over to my house; my dad drove and helped Art walk up the steps and Art filled in the gaps in the conversation. Art chatted about the upcoming political primaries, what’s new on the History Channel, and of course he talked about guns ( he owns many and knows lots), we ate dinner and finished with ice cream, both these guys could eat their weight in ice cream. Then I put on some old movies that some friends sent of Smith Valley and Bridgeport from the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s. Well, that got them going, they recalled every horse in the picture and laughed at the antics of the people they knew on the screen. My dad was five in some of the first movies, he had on a James Dean looking outfit and was about seventeen in some others, I saw Art get quiet when he saw himself on a horse and you could see the yearning in his eyes for the days when he could still ride. It was bitter and it was sweet, but in the end they went out the door laughing about all the old times and I kidded them about driving straight home and not heading out for a night on the town. It was a rich evening for me, my kids, my husband, and I hope for these two guys that I have known my whole life.
So whether you are forty or somewhere else on life’s highway I hope you are having a great January. I know I am. I’m thankful for the people old and young in my life, I’m grateful for the snow and the water it will bring and the chance to start over in the spring.
If, that is, today is your 40th birthday. And if, I suppose, you plan to live until precisely 80 years old.
I guess it’s an American tradition to freak out about turning 40, but I’m going to take a pass. For one thing, I just promised a major publisher I would sell them a book, and I’m not sure how to end it. Furthermore, I am helping to run an event for 2,000 people less than two weeks from now. I would say those are far more practical things to freak out about. Having freaked out about those things, a person could then set about doing something — writing that ending, calling in that bomb threat so that the Hunt is cancelled. (Note to the Boston police: I AM JUST KIDDING. PLEASE DO NOT ARREST ME.)
If I freak out about turning 40, what exactly am I supposed to do next? It’s freakage that leads nowhere.
Besides that, I’ve got a great family and a messy ol’ house in a nice suburb. I live about a mile away from my office, which by the way is at a company that produces puzzle magazines. I wrote a book, and people liked it. I think the people who freak about 40 are crushed by the concept of time slipping away from them, and I certainly share that to some degree — where did the time go, exactly? It feels like yesterday that I met the woman who would become my wife. In fact, that was almost fourteen years ago. Similarly, I have almost no memory of my daughter as an infant. It’s like she was born five years old and talking about braiding her hair. The people who do freak about 40… whoa, baby, I sympathize. But despite the sensation that time is an icy hill and I can’t steer my toboggan, I’m pretty content with the way things are working out.
So what’s the agenda for 40? I’m gonna head to my office in a few minutes to do some work on this, that, and the other thing. Then I’m going to come home and make braised ribs in tomato sauce over pasta. Then I’m going to hope the Giants give me a surprise birthday present by winning a playoff game for the first time in this century. At some point along the line, I am going to eat the aforementioned braised ribs. And then, I guess, I’m going to start keeping an eye on 41.
In about two hours time, the daily calendar will read December 20. It will also mark my fortieth birthday, the big 4-0. As someone once told their mother, “Hey, it’s halfway to 80!” When my mother-in-law turned 40, the friends next door draped her house in black crepe paper.
All in all, I feel OK about turning 40. I love my life, I love my wife, I love my sons (both the one on the inside and the one on the outside). Yes, things could be different. I could be 25 pounds lighter, more financially stable and not suffering from occasional insomnia. We all want things.
Last week someone asked me how I felt about turning 40. My first words were, “I don’t like it!”
Then this woman who I knew, Michele, dropped dead. Literally. I guess she wasn’t feeling well, had just had bronchitis and shingles, was having trouble breathing, but still went out for a walk with a friend early in the morning. Michele was really competitive. We played softball together, and she played really hard. So I could see her walking through the shortness of breath, walking through the bronchitis. She got home, took her kids to school, came back home, and literally dropped dead in her kitchen. She had a defective heart valve.
This hit me especially hard because Michele was 39. She died 4 days before my birthday, and I remember telling someone, “Please let me make it to Sunday!”
So I made it to Sunday, but I spent my last day of my 30s at a wake for a woman who never made it to 40. A woman who had 3 kids too, all the same age as mine, a boy and two girls, like me. This woman was well-known and well-loved. The wake was a mob scene. They closed off the street, there were four sessions and the traffic was insane. I had to wait for nearly an hour to get in. God bless my friend Eileen, who was there for me and who drank shots of Grand Marnier with me beforehand to quell our nerves, then drank a bottle of wine with me afterward.
So I’m here to say, 40’s not so bad. I’m alive. My husband started a new consulting that requires him to be out of town most of the week. But hey, he’s working. The kids are great, even if they are fighting like cats and dogs all the time.
So in a total about face, I’m glad to be 40. I’m glad I made it.
I’m turning forty, soon. And, as with other milestones in life, I feel the need to write about it. How do I feel? Well, I don’t feel forty, that’s the first thing. I feel good. Great, in fact. So, the number doesn’t bother me. What does, is the decade that will surely follow. With every other decade I’ve had a distinct set of goals, things I felt I needed to accomplish in order to move on to the next phase of my life. Not so with my forties. So that leaves me feeling . . . uncertain. I’ve never not had something to go after. And that makes me something I’m not entirely familiar with: comfortable.
The twenties were, indeed, roaring for me. I didn’t so much as bat an eye when I left nineteen behind (no doubt in a smoky bar on my college campus). I felt as if I had ten more years to party. As it turned out, I did. After college, the smoky bar turned into a beach as I took the growing-up show on the road and ended up in Southern California. What a ball I had discovering the beginning of adulthood. I worked at launching my career in advertising and worked harder still at packing the most fun I could into life. Birthdays came and went, and I could not have cared less.
When I looked in the mirror and saw a thirty-year-old, things got a little stickier. Then, I realized that time was of the essence if I was going to have everything I ever wanted: marriage, children, someone to make goofy cookies with. Southern California was everything I needed it to be as a young woman, but if I was going to accomplish my lifelong dreams, I’d better head back to the heartland. In the Midwest, chances were better that men not only would commit to a lunch date the following week, but might go for much more.
I was right. My thirties were very prolific. I met, lived with, married, and procreated—twice, in fact—with my wonderful husband. Now, I have my six-year-old marriage, four-year-old son, and two-year-old daughter to help me blow out forty candles. Whew (personal peeve—I loathe exclamation marks).
Now what? If I were able to make a wish and to not be the introspective freak that I am, I’d wish to remain on this path I’ve made for myself. I’d like my marriage to remain intact, maybe even breathe some life back into it now that I’m not a walking wet nurse. I’d like my children to continue to grow and amaze me with their fresh-faced enthusiasm. I’d like to continue juggling my friendships as best I can, considering that we all have young children who throw up on our black shirts just as we’re trying to get out the door to meet each other. I’d really like to have the privilege of watching my mother grow older gracefully for many more years to come. These are goals, I suppose. But “maintenance” isn’t something I can wrap my spirited, ambitious self around for the next ten years.
By this point in life, I know myself pretty well. I’ve come to accept that if I wasn’t a size six at twenty, I can’t expect to be a size six now. I know that if too many people are near me when I try to put on makeup, I start to sweat. I know what I can let go of and what I need to work out so that I don’t feel anxious. And, I’m telling you, I need something that I can strive for during the next decade.
I’m a walker, a Forrest Gump-like walker who just doesn’t know when to stop. One day, though, I did. Even though I hike the same trail through the same woods every single day, I saw a tree not unlike all the others, but on that day, it stood out to me. And so I stopped. Maybe it was the recent rain, maybe it was the fact that the yellow leaves had all but abandoned their job of announcing my birthday (autumn, to the rest of the world) and fallen at my feet. I don’t know why, but in that instant, I knew what I was supposed to do with this next chapter of my life.
That tree stood out to me, because, overnight, the leaves had fallen and revealed what keeps it all together: its trunk, its backbone—lustrous and strong and reaching toward the sky. As I looked around, with both feet firmly planted on the ground, my woods were no longer a beautiful blur. They were vast and rich with possibilities. I felt a sense of discovery I hadn’t had, or taken the time to have, in a very long time. It made me excited to go on. Even though I’d be moving in the same direction I’d been going all along, it would be with a new focus.
In my forties, I’m going to pay attention to something I’d almost lost track of: myself. I’ll be moving forward, not only as someone’s wife or mother, sister or daughter, writer or friend, but as the woman I’ve become somewhere along the way. In this decade, I intend to slow down and think and appreciate and learn. And even if I have no great new accomplishment to show for the next ten years, I know the process will be exhilarating.
Today’s the day I stop worrying about turning 40. Because it’s done, and there’s nothing I can do about it, except remind myself to be grateful that I’ve gotten this far.
Over the past week, there has been terrible news. An acquaintance has been killed, a baseball player died, friends and family both received very concerning health news. Everything I need to put my life in perspective is here. I have been given great gifts. I just wish I felt better about how I was using them.
My misgivings about turning 40 have been considerable, but not rising from a general discomfort with growing old - though, I have to say, that number 40 seems as huge today as 30 once did (knowing full well that in 10 years time, both will seem impossibly young). It’s been this feeling that I’ve been moving backward as much as I’ve been moving forward.
That is really a stupid thought, given all that has happened in the past decade. Ten years ago, I was single and barely employed. Today, I am 7 1/2 years into marriage, with two children and - Breaking News - a third one on the way, a second little boy, coming right around the time the Dodgers will make their Coliseum appearance in March. (Talk about your Moon Shots!)
My career, after a pretty major detour, has also been on an upswing since last year - and that’s a relief. And Dodger Thoughts has been an unexpectedly rewarding pleasure.
But during the past 10 years, I abandoned the career that I really wanted, and to this day I regret the decision. A few somewhat out-of-touch acquaintances of mine this month have asked me if I were on strike (with the Writers Guild of America), and I found myself feeling sad to say that I wasn’t.
I wish I were screenwriting. In fact, I have an idea burning a hole in the pocket of my brain right now, but I have no time to work on it. Screenwriting, for me, is not like blogging. In the time that it takes me to get out what would qualify as a medium-to-long post on Dodger Thoughts, I’d just be getting warmed up to work on a script. That first hour of screenwriting was more like calisthenics than anything else. My life, these days, simply isn’t conducive to writing fiction.
But it’s not just the notion of a dream deferred or denied that has had me down. It’s that with the passing of that dream has come the passing of any chance of being worry-free when it comes to income. The fact is, short of actually being a working Hollywood writer, my job at Variety is about as happy a situation as I could have found. But it’s journalist pay. Nothing much there.
I can’t think of much that is more distasteful than complaining about money, and the fact is, I make more than plenty of people. So my point isn’t to cry poverty. It’s just to articulate this reality that my income isn’t keeping up with how much I’m spending on day-to-day life, even though I’m trying to keep those expenses to a minimum. This year, in fact, I will have made more money than I ever had before, and yet I’m still not earning what I need to. I’ve gone from fiscally responsible to irresponsible, with each passing year getting harder, regardless of what I should be earning or spending. That’s why I feel like I’m moving backward. I spend a great deal of time worrying. I find myself talking about it with other people even though it’s the last thing I want to talk about, because it’s so inexorably a part of what’s going on with me in my head. Money matters more to me than I could have ever dreamed possible 10 years ago - it’s poisoning my life. But moving to a cabin in Montana isn’t an option.
Ten years ago, I had sincere fears of hitting 40 lonely, not in financial decline. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I feel fortunate. I love this family of mine. But I’m just sharing with you that, in all honesty, when I see those bills, I have to remind myself to feel good about myself. It’s embarrassing, really.
Another place where I’m suffering is with my friends. In the past month, by coincidence, my best friend from college and my best friend from high school came into town for the first time since my wedding, and I had the chance to catch up with them for a couple hours apiece. Each time, with no effort, we fell into that incredible groove of conversation that best friends have. And then they were gone, eventually heading back to Michigan and Colorado. I still have my best best friend sleeping in the same bed with me, and my parents 10 minutes away (and don’t think I underestimate that). But aside from them, I just don’t really have anybody that tight. All my closest friends live elsewhere, and we’re horrible at keeping in touch. It’s just not right.
Perhaps most importantly - and this should be clear by the melancholy tone of this piece - I’m not entirely happy with the person I am, about how I can be angry and selfish and self-defeating. It’s not that I don’t have my good qualities, but I don’t really feel like I’m evolving. I’m meeting some of the greater challenges of my life, but I’m not keeping pace. As my world becomes centered around getting my work done, and making sure I give my kids what they need instead of screwing them up, and trying to juggle my pregnant wife’s prayer to get 15 more minutes of sleep in against my desire to have 15 minutes to myself, I feel more like I’m devolving, unless the fact that my life belongs more to others is the real evolution. I often tell people that now, the days take longer but the years fly by. It’s the strangest thing.
If I could give myself completely to my family, or take myself completely away, I’d be happy. But I find myself want to straddle the two, which are contradictory. Me Time vs. Them Time. Why can’t Them Time be Me Time 100 percent instead of less?
People can minimize it all they want, but these round-numbered birthdays are times that I take stock, and looking at myself, I see a complicated picture. I see things to celebrate, even to take pride in. But I don’t always take pride in myself. Just trying to survive each day and punch out a few good moments without screwing up doesn’t seem like much to crow about.
I’d like to say I love my life, but love implies accepting the good and the bad, let alone the simply irritating, and I struggle. My family can be a trial at times, but it gives me a kind of joy you simply can’t otherwise imagine, and I can honestly say that my favorite moment of any day are the moments that I walk my little girl to kindergarten, or hugging the kids good night. But I keep wanting perfection. I’m 40 years old and still a spoiled brat.
Anyway, when I went to bed Sunday, I turned out the light, looked at my clock glowing with its LCD display, prepared to tick off the last 45 minutes of my 30s, and said to myself, “Screw it. I’m just going to be a young 40.” It’s going to take some effort, but it’s pretty much the only way to go.
I’ve heard a lot of women say that their 40th birthday was their most difficult. Thus far, I am approaching that milestone with as much grace and dignity as I might have hoped…with a few concessions…I bought myself a pair of Chinese Converse Knock-offs and I plan to dye my hair bright red. (Allow me to take a moment to extol the many virtues of cheap Chinese knock-offs. They are most likely made in the same factory, by the same tortured laborers, yet they cost $65 dollars less and I do not have to endure the crisis of collective identity that comes with riding a bandwagon. Cheap Chinese knock-offs always have some silly flaw. My Ju*Hang shoes are stitched over the ankle with the number 80 – Jerry Rice, perhaps? – except over the right foot, it is 08.)
Though I have yet to verbalize the experience in print, turning 30 was extremely difficult for me. It was a tumultuous and emotional period in my life. By contrast, 40 seems a nice number – the first digit hard and sharp, the second soft and round, an appropriate metaphor for my current mental state and evolving physical condition..
Birthdays are a natural time for reflection. Perhaps none more so than 40, which in my (and Maude’s) opinion is indeed the most accurate demarcation of mid-life. This last week, Kevin and I have been indulging in a considerable amount of reflection and reminiscence, and I can say with no uncertainty, that I am incredibly satisfied with the first half of my life. It has been rich and full beyond my imagination. While I have no intention of doing so, I can honestly say I could die tomorrow and not feel short changed.
Now, I know the older of you amongst my blogging audience will scoff at this statement, and I fully reserve the right to revise my opinion as my life draws closer to its end – I am cognizant of human nature. But for now, I take comfort and pride in a life lived daringly, if not drunkenly.
Oh, and for all the kindly people throughout my life who have frequently and gleefully told me “Oh, yeah, you’re skinny now, but just wait until you turn 40. Your metabolism will change and you’ll blimp out just like the rest of us.”
Congratulations.
I hope you choke on your maliciously smug prescience.
Turning 40 - It's All About the Journey is a collaborative work in progress focused on this major life event.
Is it coming up? Did you just turn? Was it a pivitol time for you? Did you sleep right through it? Was it everything you wanted it to be? Do you have what you want? How has it changed your outlook on life? Now What?!
This site invites you to share your experience of one of the most important turning points in your life so that you and others can teach and learn, inspire and be inspired, challenge and be challenged, and experience Turning 40 to the fullest.
Loading ...