On Ageing

Fifty-Five. Double nickels. Milestone? Maybe. I think all birthday’s should be a milestone. Whoo Hoo! I made it another year!

So many don’t.

For a while now, I’ve been at an age where people are dying. Heart attack, cancer, aneurism, stroke. We always thing we’re invincible. ‘I’ll diet tomorrow’. ‘I’ll quit smoking at New Years’ ‘I’ll just eat this pizza and start exercise on Monday’. People dying who are younger than me. When it first started happening, I wasn’t sure how to process it. Honestly, it scared me.

It should scare us. The other side of that, of taking care of ourselves, is taking  chances. I try to. It’s important to try. It doesn’t matter what it is. I remember years ago when I was seeing someone and I was chatting with his father one day. His father had been an airplane mechanic for the Military. I thought it was fascinating. All he thought was how horrid war was. He asked me what i wanted to be. I said I’d like to be on television. He nodded. He said he always wanted to be a farmer. I suggested he start small, plant a garden, keep chickens. He kidded again. Yeah. Maybe.

I don’t know if he ever did. I was on television. A few times. I’m pretty happy about that. It doesn’t matter what your dreams are. Stand Up Comic, Farmer, Writer, maybe you want to build birdhouses. Or dollhouses. Try. Failure is not the end result. If you tried, you accomplished.

A few years ago someone asked me if I was disappointed that I wasn’t successful as a comic. I’ll be honest, I was rather shocked. I wasn’t aware I hadn’t been. I tried it. No one died. People laughed and I didn’t pee my pants or cry or fart or have something come out of my nose. Success!

A few weeks after I turned forty I had the most amazing feeling wash over me. No one gives a fuck. I don’t have to. They don’t have to. Don’t sweat the small stuff. So what if I have cellulite. Who cares if someone thinks I’m a bitch. If I don’t, then no one. Now that I’m fifty-five, it’s even better.

So, I moved to the Dominican republic. A lot of people were happy for me. A lot of people said they were happy for me, but really they weren’t. A lot of people have distances themselves from me. They don’t want to hear it. They give me shit if I complain it’s too hot. (PS? It’s almost always too hot) I can’t change my lot in life. people who aren’t happy in their own lives will never be able to be happy for someone else’s good fortune. Let’s be clear. Good fortune is a subjective yardstick.

But promises of Skype dates go un-Skyped. Happy hour on the computer is a solo affair. I understand if people feel jealous or covet something that is beyond my scope to change. Should I have taken my family inheritance and given it to you?

The point? Don’t know except I have more years behind me than in front and I’m going to enjoy myself and do what I want for as long as I can.

Happy Birthday to me.






2 thoughts on “On Ageing

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