So…

I started writing this with the intent of sharing my reluctance toward entering a new decade of life. Never did I think I’d celebrate turning 50 during a global pandemic. But 50, itself, just seemed like an impossibility.

I mean, I feel like my dad was just 50.

When advertisers market to 50, I think probiotic commercials, or joint repair, or gray-haired couples in a row boat reminiscing about whatever it is those old fogeys reminisce about—dang, maybe it’s their youth. There’s no way I’m the target audience. There’s no way I’m hitting this milestone already.

But, according to my birth certificate, I was born 50 years ago today.

And in the words of David Byrne, all I can ask is “well, how did I get here?”

Let me be completely honest, because that’s what hitting 50 does to you. It affords you the luxury of not sugar-coating reality, because by the time you’ve hit 50 years old, you’ve “seen some sh*t.” And what I’ve realized, dear readers, is that age is not without its gains.

For starters, you can say “I’m too old for this sh*t” like Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon and it’s applicable. And for those of you who don’t get the reference, go stream the movie and come back after you’ve been schooled.

Also, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, and “f*** that” is an appropriate reason why.

With a long career behind you, you’re seasoned enough to battle any sort of imposter syndrome that tries to creep up behind you, tap you on the shoulder, and ask “who the hell do you think you are?” Back off, buddy, I got mad skills. (But yes, I wonder almost daily when I’m going to be found out.)

When you’re older, you get to say: “kids these days,” “new music is so lame,” and “they just don’t make ‘em like that anymore,” because honestly, they don’t! Innovation has driven us too far forward to make anything “like that” anymore.

You learn just how far your body can stretch because you’ve discovered just how important the physical action of stretching is…reference: joint pain ads.

You have a far deeper need to understand history because you’ve been a part of it. You’ve lived through a time that schools will teach in years to come. They’ll study the John Hughes movie catalog, and write theories how “Heathers” advocated for a global economy, foreshadowed the fall of the Soviet Union, and was a symbol for the troubled relationship between the lead singer and the guitarist in the band The Replacements. They’ll find out who the hell The Replacements were. They’ll try to understand the identity-crisis of preppy versus punk. And kids will ask questions like “what was with all the neon bracelets and flannel?” and “how did they survive without the internet?” Encyclopedias and floppy disks will be under glass at the museums, and “The Breakfast Club” will be our “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

“The Breakfast Club” will be our “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

You can be pessimistic, unforgiving, and totally read people like a book because you’ve “been there, done that.” You can also be passionate, introspective, and never have to apologize for your sentimental love of 80’s hair bands, muscle cars, or whatever ridiculous movie it is that speaks to you on a level no one else understands, because you earned that right.

So, the question is, what do I do with 50?

Of course, I knock it out of the park. I get the hell out of my own way, finish writing those novels, maybe roller skate one more time before my knee gives out, travel again once it’s safe, read all the books in my home library, rewatch Xanadu for the zillionth time, and do whatever else makes me happy. Because “life is short” is not only a saying, it’s a damn reality.

50 will bring new joys, new sorrows, and new experiences. And how do I handle it? Well, head on.

In the immortal words of Charles De Mar in “Better Off Dead”…“Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way … turn!”

Seriously, stream that one. It’s 80’s gold!