It’s finally happened – I’ve turned into an almost-old man. (By the way, the original title of this blog post was ‘ He’s Got Legs and He Knows How to Use Them’ – still torn about whether I made the right decision…)
The realization of old-manhood came as I was halfway down our driveway to pick up a package that had been delivered to our mailbox. I got the message late at night and slept on it, and upon remembering it first thing in the morning, I just threw on an overcoat over my long-sleeved t-shirt and underwear, then stepped into a pair of ancient, battered slip-on sandals that Andy and I have been sharing for years, and made my way out into the cold, sunny day. As I reached the end of the driveway, I looked down at myself and saw what any of the neighbors might be seeing – a middle-aged guy with crazy hair and glasses, bare legs and sandals, with an overcoat hopefully buttoned in the right holes whose occupant was too scared to fully check. (Some things are better left unknown.) When I got back inside (and the short walk back into the house was much quicker than the walk out as my brain woke fully) I realized that I actually didn’t care. Moreover, I wanted to capture the reality of it, so I took a few pics with my phone to commemorate the early-morning occasion.
It is a most unflattering photo you will see below, but not inaccurate, and if we’re going to be real here – my main endeavor whenever possible – we are going to be super-real. That means owning and acknowledging and accepting all 48-and-a-half years I’ve lived on this earth. It means being ok with being perfectly (and often wildly) imperfect. It means being messy and crazed and unkempt, and embracing all of it at every moment.
That makes for a sillier, and happier, life.
It also makes me feel less alone, because you are all just as fucked-up in the morning, and I don’t see any of your asses out posing for pictures. Good day.
