On 50's Doorstep
I can’t believe I’m saying this. I turn 50 years old next week.
A few days ago, thinking about that statement, I recalled something a professor of mine once said. “Poetry is condensed language.” He was referring to the way a group of words can mean so much figuratively, in addition to what they mean literally. The words convey sentiment and evoke emotion far greater than the sum of their parts.
One of my favorite expressions of this concept is the song “Outfit,” written by Jason Isbell. Rooted in the reality of Isbell’s family life, he wrote it from his father’s point of view. With the lyrics, his dad, who painted houses to support his young family, imparts bits of life wisdom to his son. The song culminates in these lines.
“So, don’t let them take who you are, boy. And don’t try to be who you ain’t. And don’t let me catch you in Kendale. With a bucket of wealthy man’s paint.”
None of us need a moment to imagine everything the narrator says without saying it here. We know. Especially if you’re a parent, like me, you know.
As I ponder my upcoming birthday, I realize I may never string together five words with more layers of meaning than these. I’m about to turn 50.
I suppose the first layer to peel away is my uneasiness as I approach this milestone. I wouldn’t call it a complete neurotic tailspin. But, it resembles one. I feel it – not quite a lump in my throat or a pit in my stomach. It’s a type of anxiety, with elements of both, and it radiates from between these two places – my head and my gut.
As the day approaches, so many thoughts circulate through my mind (when I allow it), over and again. I’m getting old. I don’t feel old. Well, my body feels kind of old, but otherwise I feel young. Not young, but just the right age. Life is just getting good. I may only have another 30 years - if that. I’m just beginning to enjoy this. I’m just getting good at this. There are so many things I still want to do; things I want to accomplish. I should’ve accomplished more by now. I need to get my ass in gear. I’m starting to look old. I don’t want to look old. And, on and on and on.
That’s only some of the language condensed within the words, when I say, “I’m about to turn 50.” I can’t even tell you how many layers of meaning are there. Far more than “I have a birthday coming up.” That’s a sentence. “I’m about to turn 50” is poetry.
I want it to be an epic poem. That’s why I’ve found myself riddled with thoughts – reviewing the story of my life after half a century. It’s because I love my life, and I want more.
It has been an odyssey of sorts, my life, because here’s another line in an earlier stanza - at the end of book one. “There was a time when I didn’t want to live anymore.”
Book one was The Iliad. Only, there was no Helen in this story, no Paris or Hector. I was at war with myself. But, like Odysseus, I traveled far from home to fight in a long war, and I encountered my share of monsters over the many years it took me to get back.
Another line of verse I will share comes just before the place in the poem that reads “I’m about to turn 50.” Two words.
“I’m home.”
I am home. Figuratively, I’ve been home for a long time. Literally, I’ve been here since March. When I set up the wireless network, I named it Ithaca.
I am home. But also, if only geographically, I’m much further from my son than I ever wanted to be. I never thought home would feel like this. Not at 25, and definitely not at 50.
Like the narrator of the Isbell song, I’ve painted my share of houses. Like the narrator, my son sings. And, like the songwriter, the way my son’s story is unfolding, I doubt he’ll ever step foot in a place like Kendale.
The first draft of this story ended about here. But, as much as I would like to enclose the words “I’m about to turn 50” in a shiny package with a nice little bow, that wouldn’t be honest. It feels so much messier.
Yes, I found my way home. Yes, I brought a son into the world, and he is poised to have a better life than his father’s. Yes, I’m reasonably happy. But, those aren’t the ideas condensed in the language pertaining to my 50th birthday.
The inner dialogue I mentioned before is part of it. Given the opportunity, I would do some things differently. I do have a couple regrets. Vanity plays a role. Blah, blah, blah. But, something heavier accelerates my thoughts and motivates me to keep battling my inner demons.
There are 10 words attributed to another man. But, from a quiet voice within, I’ve repeated them to myself for as long as I can remember. As the years go by, the voice gets louder and louder. Now, as I approach this birthday, they drown out everything else. As I tell you I’m turning 50 it’s the only thing I hear, and that thing is what I’ve been feeling in my chest.
“You’re not everything you could be, and you know it.”
Thanks for reading, folks. To hear me read this piece, check out episode 212 of The Path to Authenticity. Coming Tuesday.
Have a great weekend,
