Recently I've noticed something in the mirror. Something to give me pause. Nothing overly alarming - simply noteworthy I suppose. Sort of like you'd notice a new business going up in town 6 months after the old business went bust.
Now normally I'm greeted in the morning by what I've determined is the only evidence of my one-quarter Sicilian: that loveable and thoroughly dense pelt of stark black chest hair. It's been a common sight since my early high school years. And while most small children cower from me on the boardwalk, I've actually become quite comfortable with the facade.
But this morning was a bit different. Staring back at me, dead center of my chest, was a gray hair. Normally I'd attempt to explain away which-one-of-these-is-not-like-the-other type hairs as red (my 25% Irish) or perhaps a shade of blonde (no old-world connections, likely just sun exposure). But in this instance there was no disputing it: the lone deviant hair was clearly gray. So this little gem has gotten me to thinking about aging and what it all means. I don't really intend to answer any of those deep questions. But I think a few observations on the subject are in order.
1. You know you start getting older when you begin sentences with "...you know, when I was younger..." (or some other similar pronouncement of historic reference). To be truthful, I do this fairly often. It's the campus, you see. New students come here. I sometimes impart a kernel of history. But it reminds me of the growing age gap between new students and, well, me. Which brings me to point 2.
2. Those of you who plan to work in education will, in time, notice that the age gap never ceases. The students you work with always remain constant. Conversely your age goes up by a factor of 1 each year. Initially this seems to work out just fine. You sort of move from the 'brother' (or sister) stage to the 'older brother' stage to the 'father-figure' stage. I really don't want to think about any stages that might lurk beyond. Luckily I'm firmly entrenched in the 'older-brother' stage but I can see the next one off in the distance somewhere. Looming.
3. I think also with age comes 'contemplation' or some other similarly heady word that attempts to convey the idea of thoughtful reflection. It's one of those things where you try to figure out where you're at in life and how you feel about it. Hopefully you're happy. If not, change it up. Either way, don't waste too much time on the contemplation part if there's some things out of whack. Figure it out then fix it. Just my 2 cents.
4. I really don't want to get overly preachy. But...I couldn't help one public service announcement. Be healthy. It's really that simple. Sure General Tso's tastes great (special combination with pork fried rice and the egg roll that I actually prefer to wait after it's been refridgerated to eat). And sure laying on the couch is easier than, say, moving around. But you only get a limited slice of time. I'll grant you that being healthy isn't necessarily a guarantee of longevity but it's about as close as we can get without a fountain.
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I've got more to say (no surprise there), but I promised myself I'd arbitrarily stick with 4 points. But I'm going to give you this last one for free. It's sort of my take on all things life-related. I call it the bowling alley theory.
So a group of you go bowling. It's not something you do with any regularity. But it seemed fun and the shoes are on the cool side. Maybe it's even Rock-n-Bowl night where they kill the lights and play 80's hair bands and power ballads. Anyway, you're into the first game. All five rotating. Roll the ball. Get the ball back. Roll the ball. Get it back. It's fun. Really it is. Most people thoroughly enjoy the first game. I certainly do.
BUT, the key to life - and this is really what it's all about - is that you need to leave after that first game. Keep those wasn't-that-a-good-time memories intact. Why? Well if you proceed to the second game, which seems like a completely normal thing to do, you will eventually come to not have any of those 'wasn't-that-a-good-time' memories. These will be replaced with thoughts of 'wow my fingers really hurt...I might have a blister' or '...it's really smoky in here and my eyes hurt...' or, perhpas the worst of all '...I'm bored.' You see at some point we cross a threshold where fun becomes un-fun. And all people want to do is go home. The key to life is recognizing - anticipating - when this will come. And skipping out before it gets there.
As a hint, this doesn't just apply to bowling.
See you on the pavement.
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