60

Milestones. Formerly distance markers in ancient times. (add photo). In today's modernity we use the term in somewhat different ways. Milestones now mark significant events in our lives. The day we met, the passing of a loved one, starting dates, ending dates, graduations and anniversaries alike, and of course everybody's favorite day to celebrate, our annual birthday.

In our youth, birthday's represented rites of passage, where society metes out privileges in small increments. Turn sixteen, you get to drive, eighteen you're no longer a minor, at twenty-one you can finally take a seat at a bar and order your first adult beverage (legal one, that is). 

For us on the wrong side of young, society wisely spreads the milestones out some. We age up every 5 years in our tennis world, not the frenetic 2 years of our junior days. Once we cross the senior discount line, the benefits really start a-coming. Had enough of kids? There's a shiny new senior living complex just for your type. Couple years later, Social Security chimes in, mocking your life's hard work with its paltry monthly benefit structure. Stay among the living a little longer and Medicare will be there waiting with all its confusing parts and forms. Frankly I'm alright with this expanded spacing. Who needs more frequent reminding we're not getting any younger.

These aging milestones are nothing to jump up and down about, not the least being we'd likely hurt ourselves. But sitting here on the eve of my 60th birthday, a milestone I never thought I'd reach, does  provide a moment's pause for wistful reflections on life and its many lessons that I'd like to share with you now.  

The term is age appropriateness, behaving in predictable socially agreed upon ways or what we call norms. Its our species collective struggle, with some among us more appropriate than others. Those of us who struggle here, (been to a gym lately?) there's a holding on/can't let go quality to it all, an inability to grieve our passing youth and all its crazy glory. I recall a time in my 40's burning the candle on both ends and the middle too, hell the whole candelabra. My ethos then was I'd met a lot of grown ups in my life and frankly I wasn't impressed. So pedal to the youthful metal I was. Grinding on the courts all day, Sunset Strip for music and adventure at night. With that Monday through Friday nightmare done, it was full-contact hedonism, a weekend hippy warrior extraordinaire. There was no thought of a sabbath, no overwhelming desire for a quiet night at home. But come Sunday night's closing time and a restless night's sleep, those manic Monday mornings began to hit like an anvil.

I was an aging guy not acting his age. Until I just couldn't anymore. So I made a change. Not one of those dramatic physical transformer metamorphoses, but more a sly subtle shift in perspective. I made an active choice to see myself differently. Instead of being an older young guy, I shifted my identity to became a younger old guy. And what a difference it made. Who knew the power of an insight to alter one's fate, that nothing had really changed except I chose to see myself differently, or more realistically, that I'd been finally been graced with the timely gift of acceptance, hitching my wagon to the calmer herd of middle age.

And in that middle age a great bargaining begins, no longer possessed by that youthful fire fueled by curiosity, seeking, learning, conquering, achieving, experiencing, an insatiable burning zest for life, rarely content, always wanting something, often just more. 

I think back now on what I once thought was important, all the fiery ambitions of the addled youthful mind. I can only shake my head today and smile. But times were different then. as was I. It all made perfect sense in that place with those people in that moment. But that moment had passed. And my internal pilot light that burned so bright it could light a valley morphed to a mere flicker, its desire to conquer own acquire rule a mere dying ember of its former self. 

Today my now finite energy is spent in getting home early, securing my favorite pillow on my corner of the couch, and embracing some loving snugs from a couple of pugs. And what a transformation its been. It happens gradually, then all at once. I used to choose my concerts by what tour to go on. Now its do I have to stand. And don't you laugh now. You're all going to be there someday. For we face the same foe, Father Time, on one of history's greatest winning streaks. Undefeated for all eternity.

Continuing on my Eras tour, I approach the dawn of seniority with a whole new algorithm.  Still a few years from Life Alert or a reverse mortgage, the indignities of aging are all around. Those of us in the tennis industry lost some of our most beloved peers these past couple years. Its like a rapture occurred, secular style. Vibrant and seemingly healthy one minute, with nary a warning they leave this Earthly plane. Its unsettling really, to reach an age where randomness rules, when doing all the right things often isn't enough.

Which creates challenges planning for tomorrow. And oh the irony. Years struggling with alcoholism and addiction, I was always plotting and planning, trying to get out of this maze. Until I surrendered fully, resigning myself to the fate of the cosmos and all it has in store. And you learn valuable lessons in the fertile void, not the least being the only certainty in life is the uncertainty, yet if you can sustain a conscious contact with a power greater than yourself, where doing right becomes your northern light, things always seem to work out for the best.

And it was with such attitude this sober California hippy tennis pro writer with politics left of Karl Marx picked up and moved to Nashville without much of a plan and within months I met this beautiful conservative farm girl from Iowa with 4 grown kids and a love of country music and I would marry that gal a few years back, both of us the elusive missing piece in each other's jigsaw puzzle and we couldn't be  happier sharing these golden years together.

And this beautiful family I married in to. The family planner soon turns 30, the prodigal son is getting married next month, the youngest just got engaged to a super guy, and the eldest looks toward to giving my wife a second grandchild. To be present for this alchemy, to bear witness to their thriving lives, all of them moving on up in a myriad of beautiful ways. What a gift its all been.

And off in the distance I hear the opening notes of Landslide...

And time makes you bolder

And children get older 

And I'm getting older too.

Yeah, I'm getting older too.

Sixty years old, the same age as old people. Here's to hoping age really is just a number.

This life. Our trip is short, such a mystery it is. Thank you all for sharing in my groove.