It was my birthday the other day.
Thanks to the seventy-eight people who wrote on my Facebook wall with greetings. Unfortunately I only know seven of them. Guess in this social media crazed world I am not supposed to admit I have Facebook friends I don’t know, but do the math…
One person who I do know, and actually is a friend, asked me if I was going to have a midlife crisis now that I was turning the age of forty-five. I think his real reason for asking was so he could join in when I hit the bars for a shooter tour to wash away my potential issues.
I’m pleased to announce no impending crisis here. But his question did make me think? Am I really at midlife? Does this mean I will live to ninety? I mean that would be nice to live that long. And I wouldn’t argue about living a little longer. My Dad has an aunt who is 106; give me some of what she’s drinking…
Let me ask you a question. Do you feel your age? Do you look in the mirror and say… wow I’m old. The end is coming. Do you feel like the ticking of the clock is getting faster and faster?
Why do we make such a big deal out of the milestone birthdays? I can’t tell if its celebration or is desperation. People dread turning 30. They bemoan turning 40. The jokes get lamer when they hit 50. What’s the worry?
The irony is we make a big deal over these milestones, yet I find most people see themselves as being younger than they are. The other day I was telling a story about some older guys at the squash club. Old like in their fifties old. Then I remembered, that will be me in five years.
Imagine how I looked to the 24 year old I trounced (had to throw that in) in my Monday Night League match last week? He must have thought I was 80.
Perhaps working in an office, where only a few of us are past, shapes my lens. Being surrounded daily by twenty-somethings in their first job or their first internship doesn’t necessarily make me feel young. It just makes me realize that when I was their age, I thought I had to achieve everything in the next five minutes or I would be a failure.
Today I look at them with envy of having twenty years on me, and all that time to accomplish so many things. Perhaps that it was why we fear getting older. If forty isn’t the dying part. Is it a bit of subconscious uncertainty settling in, that perhaps we will never accomplish all that we set out to do? I can’t imagine anything more tragic.
Steven Covey likens your personal mission statement to your eulogy or obituary. Imagine tomorrow was your funeral, and specially what would the attendees have to say about your accomplishments. Candidly, I am addicted to the obituaries. Every day I read the Greater Toronto section of the Star, Business in the Globe, Sports in USA Today & Globe & Star, Marketplace from the Wall Street Journal, the Marketing section of the National Post when they have it, and the obituaries.
I hunt through all my papers for two types of obituaries. First I look for men who are around my age. Don’t know why but I like to scare myself. Then I look for people whose life was a story. Those fascinate me.
My favourite section of Maclean’s magazine is the last page. It is entitled “The End” and is the story of an ordinary Canadian who lived an extraordinary life. It’s always well written. It’s always spellbinding. It’s always amazing. These people jump out of the grave and off the page into my heart and soul. I often get emotional reading it. Not only because they have passed. But selfishly because I never had a chance to meet them.
The End. That may not be the correct title for this feature. Because more often than not these people have passed all too prematurely.
The End. How many people will write on their Facebook walls when they died?
The End. Did they rejoice or remorse on their last birthday?
The End. I only saw the Beginning on my birthday. The Beginning of my 46th year. The Beginning of another year with my awesome kids. The Beginning of another miraculous year with my wife who puts up with way too much. The Beginning of another year being so blessed to have my own business and great clients & staff. The Beginning of another year for me to make new resolutions, since less than a month into 2010 I have already broken some of my New Year’s pledges. The Beginning of another year of promising to get under 200 pounds before I begin coaching high school football again.
The End. The end of my mid-life crisis that lasted only the few minutes it took for me to share this story with you.