THIS IS MY
last week in my 40s. I've been bouncing around from morose about getting old, like when I try to get out of bed, and excited about the challenge of maturity. Right. Pffffft. Move along, nothing to see here.
Our crazy friend Luke Lyter says turning 50 is no big deal. "It's actually great, man," Luke says. "Embrace it. The 50s are the best times of your life."
Age is one of those things you can't stop and doesn't make sense, like Taylor Swift or a naked Kardashian. But you can't ignore it unlike those two, so you may as well celebrate it.
|Rodney and Rock A Bye of the Funions.|
You can benchmark life by remembering benchmark birthdays. I don't remember being born or turning 10. At 20, I was living and working in the Grand Canyon National Park and there was probably beer involved. I do remember having to work the next day and making sure I wasn't hungover, which means I was being responsible and adult-like, and really, that's not good for my reputation.
Thirty was no big deal and I don't remember doing much. At 40, I had Funions band practice and got black balloons.
So this Sunday it's the big Five-O. Wow. I've thrown away my AARP mail and I'm thinking about asking for a senior discount the next time I go to dinner. Actually, we are celebrating both my birthday and Sheryl's earlier birthday on Friday night with the ageless and wonderful Anne Mays, who might just live to be 130 and refuses to grow up.
|Is that a mullet? This must of been before 30.|
Saturday we are celebrating with a store party that will hopefully rage out of control by noon. At 3 p.m. we will toast our friend Pat Cornwell, which we do every year on the Saturday before Thanksgiving. The store is bulging with great stuff as we get ready for Christmas, so we'll have sales and remarks from dignitaries and keys to the city presentations.
Or we'll just try to survive so I can see 50 the next day.
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