What is the significance of the number 38?
38 is the atomic
number of strontium
38 Special was the
name of a southern rock band (and a gun)
38 is the number of
surviving William Shakespeare plays
38 is the number of slots
in an American Roulette wheel
38 was the number worn
by flat-broke Red Sox legend Curt Schilling
Honestly, I don’t give a crap about any of that.
38 is the age I turn today and I am not happy about.
“Age is just a
number!”
“You are as young as
you feel!”
Shutup. It is a just
a number…a number higher than I want to be.
As far as how I feel? I feel old
as dirt.
This may be the first birthday that I am truly I not happy
to look in the eye. There is nothing
special, cool or fun about turning 38. I
am that much closer to 40, that much farther from 30…and cripes, my 20s might
as well be the Mesolithic period.
Outside of my 94 year old grandmother, no one will EVER say, “You know Frank, young guy from Sector 7-G,”
anymore (Simpsons reference, by the way, for you young guns). Uh uh.
No way. Kids in their twenties
have innocently called me “Sir” and “Mr.” Beat it you punks!
Let’s look back at history and review just why this so
called “number” flat out stinks….at least for me.
30 Years Ago
Age 8. Honestly,
could life be any better than it is for an 8 years old? Memory is a little fuzzy, but I am fairly
certain I had some kick ass birthday party with random friends I hardly
remember, strange clothing, a punch bowl and pin the tail on the donkey
(interestingly, sounds more like my 21st). Second grade, Mrs. Leney’s class. The best.
School was fun. Little League was
king. I could run and play all day long.
Never get tired. Not a care in
the world. Xanadu.
20 Years Ago
Age 18. Are you
kidding? 18 was almost as good as
8! Senior year of high school. Gearing up for a parent-free existence in
college. Playing football. Chasing (notice I did not say “catching”)
girls. I was actually eligible to vote
for President (you are very welcome, Slick Willy Clinton). It was like the hounds were finally released!
10 Years Ago
Age 28. Life was
still rocking pretty good. Married. Had my first child. Job was going well. Bought a house. Bought a car.
No gray hairs in site. Waist line
was ‘reasonable’. This aging thing ain’t
so bad?
You seeing the pattern here?
For the most part, life on the 8s had been a relatively smooth
ride. Then I woke up this morning and
looked into (an apparent Fun House) mirror at 38. Yuck.
Where to begin, where to begin?
Let’s examine a few of the major dimensions of life…
Physical
Well, the fact that I started my day with some blood work
and the refilling my blood pressure medication can’t be a good sign? And unlike
the 8 year old “me” I cannot run all day.
For that matter I get winded carrying the laundry basket from the
basement to the second floor. Really
winded. How about the used jalopy I call
a body? While I am blessed with some
good genetics no one is mistaking me for Adam Levine when I walk down the
street. Lucky enough to have my hair, it
now looks like a salt shaker fell on my head while I slept. Those bulges you see are not muscles…they are
moles (I think?). OK, I need to jump
topics.
Mental
I used to love to read and learn. I greatly enjoyed history and politics. I would seek new avenues to expand my
horizons. Now…not so much. Reading the comics, doing the Celebrity News
Quiz in People and DVR-ing the latest
episode of Modern Family is not
likely going to get me a nomination into the local MENSA chapter.
Spiritual
To quote Bishop Pickering in Caddyshack, “There is no God,” Kidding, just a little jaded today.
Anyway…remember the movie City Slickers starring Bill Crystal. Lost in mid-life crises (that’s what the
trailer actually reads! ‘MID-LIFE’!),
Crystal and his close friends hit the open range and drive a herd of cattle for
his birthday. What birthday was it? Yeah, that’s right, his 38th.
Pretty sure a cattle drive is not in my plans for the day,
but I did DVR Modern Family.
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