I got congratulated a lot yesterday on my birthday-when it's really my mom who deserves all the credit. I was, literally, along for the ride. I spent part of the day, as a man who pretends the best is yet to come, in an office of one of the half dozen physicians I see on a regular basis. I like to think of them as "Team Bill". They, on the other hand, are not too crazy at that moniker. I think the tee-shirts were a touch too much.
I know I've stayed too long at the fair when I am happy that my A1C is 5.5--I feel like I did when I scored 3rd row tickets for Springsteen on his first German tour. We're talking grin across my entire face. How pathetic is that? It's right up there with taking a nap on the couch in the afternoon/early evening if I want to stay up past ten o'clock (on a school night), because that's my bedtime. All that's missing are the PJ's with the feet.
Yesterday was a bit tense for a moment as my primary care doctor harshed my buzz by talking about scheduling a prostate exam (people often say prostrate exam-I love that) and I wasn't exactly wearing my happy hat, but when he rechecked his computer records, he confirmed what I'd been telling him-I'd had one a year ago. Trust me, I said, that's an item you remember.
How ironic as an aging FARC, I'd feel such kinship with a dreidel. I haven't stopped, but I have slowed down and more and more I've become the old guy I spent a large part of my life avoiding. Who says God has no sense of humor? As much as my heart will always beat a little faster for My Generation, until it stops beating entirely, I share another Bill's belief. I too, have passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage, I've found that just surviving is a noble fight. I once believed in causes, too, I had my pointless point of view, but life goes on no matter who was wrong or right.
After close to six decades trying to outrun the sound of my own steps in fright, I've learned to appreciate the irony of not having to worry about a legacy when so little was accomplished.