Getting Hit by 40 (Part I)

The problem with whining about one's age is that there is always someone older than you who tells you to shut up and someone younger than you who can't believe your still breathing since you've never actually watched American Idol.

I mean, how uncool am I?

They say for most of your life you 'turn' a certain birthday. You turn 5 for example, and at that age, you tell people you turned 5 and a quarter, 5 and a half, and even 5 and 9/10ths. I even "turned" 30, however, I believe I turned 30 with my friend Margarita, and don't have much of a recollection of that. However, they say you don't turn 40, you hit 40. I have firm evidence that this is incorrect.

You don't hit 40, 40 hits you. I've been told I can't have a birthday cake due to the fire hazard from all those candles.

As of this writing, I'm not 40 yet, but I feel it lurking, waiting to attack, like Jack Nicolson did in The Shining, only it wants to kill me a lot more slowly. 40's already jabbed my back, hit my knees with a baseball bat, and has suddenly removed me from any popular demographic advertising considerations.

40 has also called up his friend Death, just so he can keep an eye on me. I met this death fellow once as I pondered the following word sitting behind an 18 wheeler, waiting for the world's slowest train to cross the road. That word would be:

SEMIPERMANENT

The word was on the bottom of the Maine license plate of the 18 wheeler in front of me.

Now, I call my wife and tell her what I've seen. I ponder its meaning. How the @#$ can something be permanent in a semi sort of way? I could tell my wife was just humoring me as I ranted about semipermanence and eventually told me she had to go do something more important, like feed the goat.

I didn't even know we had a goat.

As I waited for the slowest moving in train in history to pass, I had a vision, or it could have been a diesel fume related aberration. I figure if Jerry Falwell can predict the future in his talks with God, why can't I have the occasional non-drug related hallucination, especially if it helps the literary worth of this mediocre piece of writing.

Hallucination starts here:

Death opened the door and sat next to me. Surprisingly, he looked a lot like Dick Cheney, only healthier and less dangerous. Our conversation may have been something like this:

ME (looking dismissingly at Death sitting in my front seat) : What do you think of this word, SEMIPERMANENT?
Death: Aren't you worried I'm doing to take you away?
ME: That would be so cliché, with me turning 40 and all.
DEATH: You're probably right. Plus this blog really needed something more interesting. Did you lose your sense of humor knowing you're turning 40 soon?
ME: Maybe...
DEATH: Are you feeling stressed, out of control, worried, and depressed?
ME: A little...
DEATH (smiling insincerely and marking something on his PDA): Keep it up. I'll guess I'll be visiting sooner than scheduled.
ME: Eerp!
DEATH: However, on the word semi-permanent. Didn't you think that semipermanent might mean our lives here on earth? The fact that you feel like a permanent fixture on this planet with all your life problems? Not giving yourself enough time to enjoy the good things? Then suddenly one day you’re lying in an ambulance wondering what happened to all that life you used to have? You know, life if kind of semi-permanent. As Styx once said, "Even Pharaohs turn to sand, like a drop in the ocean."
ME: Styx? The River you travel on?
DEATH: No, the awesome 70's rock group.
ME: That is truly inspiring, oh Death. I'm going to live for the moment more often! I'm going to change my ways!
DEATH (with another sly smile, opening car door and stepping out): Habits are stronger than desires, my friend. Now, I'm going to leave you with this one, incredibly important piece of information.
ME: Yes, Mr. Reaper?
DEATH: (slightly sarcastically): SEMI PERMANENT probably just means the SEMI TRAILER in front of you has a permanent license. It probably doesn't need to be renewed.
ME (sadly): That kind of ruins the whole metaphor.
DEATH: I'm not here to spread happiness, bozo, unless you count the body counters down at the Pentagon or those crazy radical Islamists. Man, they love to see me. I love those guys! But maybe there is something to that semipermant thing after all. It's you that makes sense of this world, grasshopper.
ME (more happily): Yeah! Imagine that!
Death (leaving car and pointing at me): Happy birthday! Now I've got my eye on you, not-so-young man. So do something foolish! Drive fast, take chances! Start drinking hard liquor! Hope to see you soon!
ME: Not if I can do anything about it!
Death (winking): You can't.

Ah yes, turning 40.
(To be continued)