More than any other birthday, I’ve viewed this one with a strange mania, for at least a year now. A variation on the mid-life crisis, though without the big boat, sports car and “what happens-here-stays here” trip to Vegas.
It’s all really silly, of course, and is a product largely of my preoccupation with numbers. Who else knows–or even cares to know—that they are 14,610 days old on their 40th birthday?
Then there’s this gratitude reality check: how fortunate am I to live in this country, to have so many blessings in my life, starting with my health, my beautiful wife and wonderful children and other fantastic family members and friends?
Besides, this four-oh thing can be a lot of fun. When I have been telling people it’s my birthday and have asked them to guess my age, they have been generously offering some major underestimates.
Maybe I should start telling people I’m 45. That would make me not only a liar, but also a Baby Boomer!
As part of my celebration today, and to support an Oak Park business that just opened a magnificent new space down the street, Marion Cheese Market, I bought a six-pack of quality beer (Wolaver’s Pale Ale) at 9:35 a.m. (according to my receipt).
I confirmed I was the first alcohol purchaser with employees, and one kindly agreed to capture the moment with the photo you see above.
I don’t look a day over 39, huh?