Life at 45

Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I am actually 45 years old. I don’t feel that I’ve lived long enough to be 45 years old. Think about it, when you were a kid and your parents were around my age, or someone who worked with your folks, or someone who was at your church was 45, they were respected and were considered grown up. Yes, it’s true that I have raised children, own a home, traveled all over our world, held rather prestigious positions but I still feel like I haven’t grown up. How are you supposed to feel in your middle age? Aren’t you supposed to feel that you are a secure member of society, accomplished wonderful things that have helped our community? I think that’s the way my folks felt but maybe they had the same insecurities that I have accumulated. How in the heck will I ever retire? Will I still be dancing around in a toga or pulling a cart through a Russian/Jewish town for a group of blue hairs on a Sunday Matinee when I’m 70? Will I even get to 70?

So, here I am with all of these questions about being 45 and the irony is that they really don’t matter because January is just around the corner and with January comes 46. The truth is that being 45 is probably the greatest age yet for me. If you had told me when I was 25 that each year would get better I would have never believed you. For those of you who are not 45 yet, get ready because it’s a blast and for those of you who are older than 45, I look forward to having the fun that you’re enjoying right now. Ain’t life grand?