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 22.
At 22, I thought I was infallible, unbreakable, and unflappable. But as it turned out, I was wrong on all accounts.
At 22, I thought I had all the time in the world. These days I worry the world is running out of time too.
At 22, I partied like it was 1999. Because it was 1999. But now that it’s 2021, my memory of 1999 is fuzzy, and because we didn’t take selfies or post everything on social media, fuzzy memories are all I have.
Obviously, I was dealing with some heavy shit during my birthday week. But I was also dealing with the regret of my previous birthday, my forty-third trip around the sun, a trip I marked by doing jack-shit because that’s how 2020 went. The only thing I wanted this year, I told Christina, was to celebrate by having dinner with a few friends. But by the time that dinner party rolled around, my anxieties had gotten the best of me and my spirit was fogged in by melancholy. I wanted to call the whole thing off. But to quote the entrepreneur-poet Mick Jagger, you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, well, you might find, you get what you need.
As it happened, I needed vegan nachos, an Arnold Palmer, and good company. The moment my friends arrived, the melancholy fog vanished and my anxieties took a break for the evening. We talked and laughed, and ate food made from plants! Over dessert, a friend shared a birthday tradition from her family.
“Everyone goes around the table and shares something they appreciate about the birthday person,” she said. “Should we do that for Michael?”
A friend I’ve known since high school kicked things off by telling everyone about the time we hacked into NORAD to play a turn-based strategy game and almost started World War III. “Yeah, it was a shit-show,” he said. “The FBI called our parents. But Mike was like, fuck the feds, shut up and lawyer up, dude. And he was right. That totally worked! Mike’s been right about everything ever since. He even beat that computer at chess.”
Another friend agreed. “I met Michael through Christina,” he said. “Right away I could tell he was the smartest man alive. One day, I’ll never forget it, he told me how he cornered the market for frozen-concentrated orange juice back in the eighties. I thought, that’s one hell of an accomplishment for a seven-year-old. But for Michael… it tracked! I just wish I’d listened to him on Bitcoin.”
“I listened to him on Bitcoin,” said a friend I met through a mutual enemy. “Michael is a case study in confidence. But he’s not a jerk about it. Actually, he’s super chill. This one time at the bowling alley, a pederast was talking trash ahead of a league game, but Michael just blew him off, did a J, and put on some Creedence. I just wish The Left had used his version of The Port Huron Statement, not the compromised second draft.”
None of this was true, of course. My friends said lovely, funny, amazing things about me. But nobody likes a braggart, so instead of rattling off a list of all the great things about me, I wrote three parodies. Besides, the compliments were besides the point. The point was that the values I try to live are the values my friends see in me. Realizing that was a wonderful gift. And it was one of those gifts that kept on giving, because the next morning I had an epiphany.
If the people you care about see you as you strive to be seen, then you are seen, and that goes a long way to achieving happiness.
Christina thought that was solid.
“You’re living right,” she said.
I thought so too. The following morning, I called my sister to share some wisdom that was forty-four years in the making.
“I have the secret to happiness as you get older,” I said.
“Oh, OK! Let me put you on speaker,” Allison said, before announcing to the room, “Michael has the secret to happiness as you get older.”
“The secret is this: if the people you care about see you as you strive to be seen, then you are seen, and that goes a long way to achieving happiness.”
The line was silent.
I continued, “Essentially, it’s a matter of aligning the inner self and the outer self. Harmony. Maybe harmony is a little strong, a little too hippie-dippie. Basically, the epiphany is this: know who you are, like who you are, surround yourself with people who know you, and appreciate you for being you.”
“Is this a joke?” Allison asked. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s an epiphany.”
“I thought it was going to be funny.”
“No, I’m trying to share wisdom here.”
“I was expecting a joke.”
“No jokes. I learned something that helped me get through a minor funk, and I wanted to pass it on. Is it Yoda-level wisdom? Probably not. But it’s not Giuliani-level dumb, either.”
“Life advice from Rudy Giuliani is a good premise for a joke.”
“It’s a great premise! And the t-shirt is gold.”
I understand exactly what you mean. A few years back I ran for a statewide political office (attorney general). A good run. Not ultimately successful but incredibly revealing. I was a long shot candidate, not part of the political establishment, running on an anti-corruption platform. Several folks wrote detailed letters on my behalf. One was a former judge from another state with whom I’d shared the foxhole of a multi-year corporate lawsuit against a well-known billionaire. Another was a secretary who’d worked with me for ten years but then retired. A few were clients. I was floored by the letters. They said nice things but what blew me away was the revelation that I actually was the person I thought I was. Kind of hard to explain. But so powerful to learn.
Fantastic story. And the t-shirt rocks!!!
I agree with Bob, your Dad would have loved the story and the shirt!