It seems like just one year ago today that I turned 50, in
large part, because it was. As I approached the half century mark last year, I
was very anxious. What would it be like to be a 50-year-old man? I knew it was
just an arbitrary number, but some numbers packed more significance than
others. At 16 you can drive; at 21 you can drink; at 35 you can run for
president—even if you have the maturity and intelligence of a toddler. Well
what happens at 50? What would an entire year of being a 50-year-old feel like?
Well, since that year just ended for me, I’m here to tell you it’s a very mixed
bag.
In some ways, my 50th year felt like two very distinct years. The
first half was terrific, whereas the second half felt almost like Armageddon.
As I mentioned in some blog posts from that timeframe, one of the great
advantages of turning 50 was getting my AARP card. I wielded that piece of
plastic like a great swordsman wields…um…a sword. (Metaphors don’t get better
at age 50.) Not long after I got my AARP card—okay a day after— I took my wife
on a hot date to Denny’s and flashed that thing for a full 15% off! It was
glorious!
Yes, the first half of my 50th year brought with it some carefree
days. Not only was I getting an AARP
discount at a handful of select restaurants and retailers, I was also
getting AARP The Magazine! The first issue I received had Tom Hanks on the
cover! Tom-freaking-Hanks! Maybe being 50 wouldn’t be so bad after all! And
then the second half of the year kicked in.
Six months after I turned 50, in mid-March, everything seemed to start going
downhill. It was like I became a hermit, staying in all the time—not even
leaving my house to go to my office. I stopped going out to eat. I stopped
going to the movies. I avoided seeing anyone other than my immediate family in
person. I became obsessive compulsive about handwashing. I started doing weird
things like hoarding toilet paper and wearing facemasks on the rare occasion
that I would venture outside. What was it about the second half of my 50th
year that made me this way? Why did nobody older than me tell me it would be
like this?
And now comes 51. What will that year be like? Will it be as schizophrenic of a
year as my 50th was? Only time will tell, but I’ll tell you one
thing for certain—I’ve already renewed my AARP membership. I mean
Kevin-freaking-Costner was on the cover of the last issue, so why wouldn’t I?
