44 Stories

Rosanne Cash has a song from her Rules of Travel cd that is the same title as this post (or vice versa, actually). Allegedly it references her first 44 years and was actually supposed to be the title of her half-biography which has never materialized. Never mind that the song came out when she was 50. I’m co-opting it for my birthday blog.

…the title, that is. You’re not getting 44 stories from me. But oh, the stories I could tell. Good enough for a series on the WB……and a full season at that! One that only a talent the calibre of a Jon Cryer understudy could convey what I have lived.

But true to form, David G sent me an email a few days ago with the subject matter: You’re OLD. Touching….yes? But the kind of touch you’d get, like being poked with a dull stick….over and over and over.

On the plus side, David remembered my birthday month. After 23 years, that is the closest he has gotten…….ever. So for him (and me) this is kind of huge. I think he actually even remembered the day, and might be contacting me to give me birthday wishes, but “claims” to be traveling that day.

The minus side is the pointed out something all too obvious. I’m OLD and have been acting it in this blog. He pointed out that recent topics include: weather, traffic, airports and ‘these kids today who don’t know who Patti Smith is’.

He goes on to say, and I quote, “You’re starting to sound like Andy Rooney’s grandpa’s grandpa! Which makes me Andy Rooney’s grandpa’s grandpa’s older friend!”. OUCH. The ouch is more about him than me. At least I think.

For the record – I and as he pointed out, he IS older. Game. Set. Match.

I’m not (quite) that dirty old man on ‘Family Guy’ who sings “I Know What Boys Like”, nor can I really expound upon High School Musical, or to a lesser extent, High School Musical 2. They say, write what you know…….and lately I know traffic, weather, airports and ‘those kids…’. Sue me.

I’m fine being 44 (or really – starting my 45th year), but David is right. I’m old. I am passed middle-age (g-d, I hope) and I’ve said before – who knew I’d make it this far? Not me.

Most of the time I do not feel my age, but there is no getting around the other times. Cultural references I have and use that no one else gets. The inability to drink as much I used to – liquor that is. The inability to drink as late as I want to (any liquid), or have the need to get up and pee during the night. Oy.

The reality is, all my life, my age has felt like a double-edged sword. I am clearly immature when it comes to my humour and have rarely progressed in this area past 14 years of age. But on the other hand, I’ve always been a realist and a fatalist making me much more crumudgeonlier (it could be a word!) than my years would suggest.

What is a 44 year old to do?

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