The Secret to Happiness: A Mid-Life Report
I learned something about life on my birthday. Or, maybe I'm just kidding myself.
I turned 44 recently. Friends, family, and internet randos wished me happy birthday on social media. Mom called and sang happy birthday. My sister, Allison, sent me a Four Seasons Total Landscaping t-shirt because her sense of humor is as twisted as mine. My birthday fell on a Wednesday, so that night we flew casually. Christina took me for Armenian food, followed by artisanal ice cream. To paraphrase the warrior-poet Ice Cube, it was a good birthday.
But even good birthdays can be a little melancholy for me. I don’t mind getting older. If you’re lucky, you’ll grow old too. But birthdays are milestones, and milestones invite reflection. In theory, reflection is good, but in practice, an anxious middle-aged human reflecting on his life is bound to go sideways. Here’s an incomplete list of birthday reflections gone awry:
At 44, I’m probably closer to the grave than the cradle.
At 44, my bucket list remains stubbornly long.
At 44, I’m not nearly as accomplished as I planned to be when I was…
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