Across the Universe
I turned thirty a few weeks ago. And that was it. It was sort of a non event in my life to be perfectly honest. Nicole arranged a great little celebration and I had a nice time, but it didn’t really feel like a milestone birthday. I honestly can’t believe I’m thirty. I have yet to tell anyone in passing conversation about my age, and no official representative of the government has requested the information. A girl at a nearby gas station did ask if I was thirty when I bought beer the other day. And for once in my life, I had exactly the right answer, at exactly the right time.
I’m a bit more introspective in my old age. Oh sure, I THOUGHT I was introspective when I was younger, but that was just ignorance. Sweet, sweet ignorance. Looking back, I find that I held on to some things for too long, and maybe others for not nearly long enough. About ten years ago I almost did a number of stupid things over what has proven to be the worst relationship in my adult life. The fact that I thought it was a good relationship at the time is proof that I was an idiot. And of course that is just one example, but I have news for you smart kids out there. You don’t know shit about life. Sorry. My feelings about the Boomers aside, it’s fair for them to say that I don’t know shit either. Because I don’t. It’s a waste really. We gather all of this wonderful knowledge and then one day, WHAM…dead. It’s like that time Lex Luthor started building a frontier house and then Dirty Harry came along and shot him because deserve ain’t got nothing to do with it. Yes, it is exactly like that.
As a people, I think we look the same now as we did ten years ago, but with more gadgets. I’m watching TV from 1995 almost every day and the clothes are the same. The people talk the same. Watching TV from 1985 back in 1995 was like watching the documentary footage of a whacked out culture on some strange planet. Like Kentucky, but further away.
I finished 2nd grade and was promoted to the 3rd when the 80’s reached a midpoint. Trucker hats and knee high socks. A lemonade stand with two customers.
Mother’s Day was this past weekend. We took my Mom out for lunch. Her name is Virginia. She probably thinks that most of these entries are proof that I am crazy. But that’s okay, because she never told me how to think. She just told me to think. And to apply myself. And I’m still working on that. My children will never know my father. And that’s sad. But they will know my mother. And if I am still here when she is gone, I will show my grandchildren her photo and say to them, “This was my mother. We didn’t always agree. She was the strongest person I’ve known in my life. She saved our family when my father died. I never deserved her, but I loved her.”
