Tomorrow is the last day before I turn 40.
I’ve been reflecting on a year of my life per day in the 40 days leading up to my 40th birthday. Truthfully, it feels like those 40 days have taken longer than the initial 40 years themselves.
In addition to the normal “2020” reasons, in the past 40 days I’ve bought a house, sold a house, moved, and quasi-renovated the new house all while caring for a 20-month-old child and a pregnant wife.
Plus, I got my yearly physical (with flu shot), attended a three-day virtual writers’ conference, welcomed my 15th niece or nephew into the world, went to a socially-distanced pumpkin patch, and (since we’re still living through a global pandemic) taught my daughter that Halloween is when you dress up in a fun costume to “walk around the neighborhood waving at houses.”
But these are all good problems to have, even when I’m very tired.
The cherry on top is that my mother-in-law starts an extended visit next weekend so, “hooray,” another period of time that will feel longer than 40 years.
Especially with everything going on in my life right now, it was important not to let a milestone as significant as my 40th birthday pass without a more-detailed introspection than my annual “State of Chris Gaffney” review.
It would’ve been easy to put it off but I have a bad habit of deluding myself with time by saying if we can just get through this project, or this visit, this sickness, or this year, everything will be the same again. But if 40 years have taught me anything it’s that the reset is never coming – and that’s ok.
You can’t uncook a chicken but if you wait another week it’s just as unsafe to eat.
We wanted to visit Ireland for my 40th birthday (the fun half of my ancestral homeland) but covid shut that down, so I had to make meaning out of the only connection to my past I have: my memories.
A few (older) people have made light of my choosing age 40 as a time for meaningful self-reflection but it feels appropriate to me.
People in their 30s still delude themselves that they’re full of youthful vigor but by your 40s the hostess is more likely to hand you the early-bird specials than the happy hour menu and you need your reading glasses to tell them apart.
Focusing only on a specific year of my life each day has given me a richer perspective of what my life was actually like at that age. When I typically look back on my life I tend to focus on the same handful of moments, people, or woulda/coulda/shouldas.
Looking at my life as whole, it’s easier to see the consistencies.
Some might call me stubborn (I’m still holding a grudge from preschool) and nobody’s ever accused me of being too thin but there’s also an age-defying essence presenting itself throughout my life regardless of clothing, hairstyle, hormones, or inebriation level.
Though I wasn’t exactly an outsider before, my current role as salt-and-pepper-haired dad seems to suit me well. It’s nice to be where you belong.
It took my Jewish ancestors (the less fun half) 40 years of wandering to reach the promised land (though, spoiler alert: it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing after that).
As I now have an equal number of years of wondering (easier than wandering when you have flat feet) under my belt, I find myself questioning whether I’ve reached my own “promised land,” or just found a temporary respite from life’s never-ending struggle.
A long time ago I set my life goals as buying a lake house and retiring. I’m not there yet but I just moved across from a reservoir and (purposely) haven’t worked in nearly two years so I’m getting close.
I tell myself I’m not looking for anything more. I’ve got a wife, a daughter, and (soon) a son, but believing that I’m content would entirely negate the lessons of the 40 years I’ve just reflected on.
There’s always something else to catch my interest and it usually isn’t something predictable.
Ambition, like water, always finds a way. It may temporarily freeze or turn to vapor and float away but it always returns sometimes as a drip of drops and other times as a powerful torrent sweeping up anything it’s path.
I spent so much time in my teens and twenties trying to attract girls that when I finally found one to commit, it wasn’t clear where to turn that drive so I stopped pursuing individuals and started chasing crowds.
I spent my twenties and much of my thirties positioning myself to climb up a career ladder only to jump from one ladder to another before finally jumping off.
I now float in the ether close enough to reach back out in case of emergency but far enough that I fill LinkedIn with confessions of my insecurities and discussions of my flaws.
When I was young, I wanted to change the world (and believed I had the power) but only if I could align it closer to my values – to the promise of America.
This passion still stirs within me but I don’t know how it will next manifest itself. I just know that I’ll continue to speak my truth. I’ll always be more Frank Capra than Francis Ford Coppola championing ideals over power.
I’m also still quite sensitive. Several people tried to stamp it out of me throughout my life but I managed to hold on developing a thicker skin without ever abandoning that central essence of my personality.
I’ll still look the other way if you feed a snake a mouse in front of me and I’ll always root for the underdog speaking truth to power or championing a lost cause.
I’m not afraid to cry although it isn’t something I often do. I’m more of a Dick Gephardt than a John Boehner.
So here I sit on the precipice of 40 with a lifetime laid behind me and, God willing, a future spread before me. I can’t change anything about my past but I can use it to inform my future.
A lot of things will change on Tuesday, November 03, 2020, for better or for worse. My age is merely one of them. Assuming, of course, that I make it through Tuesday in good health.
The world might focus on the “bigger” Presidential election story (assuming, of course, that our democracy makes it through Tuesday in good health), but whichever you decide to follow, no matter what happens (and no matter how we feel about it) there’s no going back.
Milestones are irreversible. A new chapter will begin – different from the preceding ones but the same in many ways. It’s good to have a colorful past to draw upon to know it’ll be okay and to help us find our way.
*September 24, 2020, started a 40-day countdown to my 40th birthday. Since I couldn’t travel to Ireland (½ of my ancestral homeland) as originally planned, I’ve committed to reflecting on a year of my life per day for each of the 40 days. Today is the final installment in the series. Daily-ish reflections may be found on my Facebook Page or on the new 40 Years of Wondering page of this website.*
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