Sorry, pal, the calendar doesn't lie
My daughter was excited about the last day of school.
And why shouldn't she be? She had the whole summer in front of her to roast marshmallows with the rest of the Brownies, play with Barbie and watch reruns of "Full House." Because, she was, uh, like in the third grade or something.
"Dad," she said at the point reality slapped me in the head with a nice cardigan stuffed with cans of Ensure. "I'm officially a high school sophomore."
Then I blanked out. Just for a second, but the glaze over my eyes must have been like on a holiday ham.
"You're not having that Brownie and 'Full House' thing again are you?" She asked.
"Uh, no," I lied. "It's just that I'm really proud of ... you're a what?"
"A sophomore," she said.
"That can't be. It seems like just yesterday you were a freshman."
"I was."
A sophomore?
"You're getting up there, too," she said. "Aren't you going to be 40 this week?"
Forty? Come on. Yeah, my birthday's this week, but I'll only be 26. It's 1991 and that band Poison is still cool, right? I mean, it couldn't be any later than 1992.
It's 2005? I thought as I looked at the kitchen calendar I would curse for the rest of the year.
No, 2005's got to be wrong. That would mean I'm going to be 40.
Forty's not me. Forty is for doctors, airline pilots and actors playing God. I still have a Van Halen T-shirt and black-and-white checked Vans I wore to Halen's "1984" concert when I was in college. That was eight years ago, tops, unless you believe that stupid calendar that must have been put there by Satan.
Forty is for people whose daughters are high school sophomores ...
Damn.
When did 40 happen?
Guys in their 40s have to worry about things like their teeth, cholesterol, blood pressure, missing hair, buying a hot car and going through that whole prostate exam thing.
I've got enough to worry about. Like this month's "Mad" magazine, where I put the pizza coupons and whatever happened to Ally Sheedy.
I not only don't have time to be 40, I think four out of five shrinks would agree I'm not ready to be 40.
But I guess I don't have a choice.
My wife is throwing me a birthday party, so that makes everything official. I'm a middle-aged guy who still listens to Iron Maiden and plays air guitar when nobody's looking.
I guess being 40 makes a lot of sense now. I'd wondered why everything my wife bought for the party was black.
