I turned a year older this week – 56! The number doesn’t really bother me but the statistics do. So as with most unpleasantness, I choose to ignore the statisticians. I’ve been told that men my age are prone to heart disease, prostate cancer, midlife crisis, beer bellies, bald heads, erectile dysfunction, and host of other maladies that Zymbalta or some other wonder drug can cure but with frequent, painful and serious side effects. Oh joy!

The truth is that I feel pretty good most days. And (because I prefer to look at myself in the mirror without my bifocals on) I still look pretty good, too. So life goes on! Yes, the years tick by but I don’t care. I’ve decided to live life to the fullest (or as full as a 56 year-old can!) And currently I have no complaints.

I’m blessed; I know that I am. And upon reflection God (or my guardian angel) has had my back many times in this life of mine. I’m in love with my wife. I have three great kids and three beautiful grandkids. And we all have fun together. Especially the grandkids and me – which is what makes 56 tolerable and even fun most days. When I asked Anna, “Why am I such a lucky Pawpaw?” She exclaimed, “Because you’re MY Pawpaw!” How true; how true!

And of course turning a year older ALWAYS beats the alternative.

This week I’ve been able to celebrate my birthday on the beach in Florida and I’ve cherished every moment. Playing  in the sand or splashing in the pool with a 3-year old and an 8-month old makes a 56-year old forget (for a little while) about work, bills, the national debt, the likelihood that there won’t be social security when (or if) I retire, etc.,etc. The afternoon (obligatory) Margaritas help, too!

So bring on the birthday candles! I plan on running away to the beach again next year.  Fifty-seven be damned!

Peace,

Denis

I grow old, I grow old; I will wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled ~ T. S. Elliott