Maundy Thursday

On Maundy Thursday of this year, I will turn 67 years old. Such an event has never occurred to me as a possibility.

*When I was in my teens I imagined dying in my 20's from an automobile crash or a criminal event.'

*When I was in my 20's, a horrible hypochondriac,  I imagined dying in my 30's from some dread disease with inexorable suffering.

*When I was in my 30's, I imagined dying in my 50's from a heart attack.

*When I was in my 40's....well, since, in my opinion, that's the best decade of all, except for the ones to come, but you don't know that then, I didn't think about dying at all.

*When I was in my 50's, since men often die in their 50's, I was in denial about dying.

*Once I hit 60, I was in such alien territory, having never imagined reaching such an age, I sort of forgot about the dying part, as obvious as 'the dying part' is.

And in Holy Week I'll turn 67.

I've outlived my mother by 3 years now. But not my Dad. He lived to be 83 and his brothers all lived into the late 80's too. So, maybe I've another 15 or 16 years or so, long enough to go to my older granddaughters' college graduation, maybe. Or see my son hit 60. Or have the Yankees win another World Series. Some of that, at least.

What a trip to grow old. I read a novel yesterday called Dead Man's Time by Peter James and remember this line from it. A 95 year old man is thinking about life and thinks: "The older you get, the less you care."

I love that. And I'm discovering it is true. I don't 'care' anymore about what people think of me. I don't 'care' anymore about how I look. I don't 'care' anymore about what time I get up or go to bed. I don't 'care' anymore about fashion or political correctness or being 'liked'.

Like me or don't, I don't care anymore.

I just care about waking up (whenever I do) and getting out of bed and doing whatever the hell I decide to do that day and then going to bed. I'll eat. I'll ponder stuff. I'll walk around. I'll read and think. I'll imagine what comes next (like the next few minutes!) and I'll love every minute of being alive far beyond I ever imagined being alive.

What a gift being 66--almost 67 is--every day is a gift that for most of my life, I never imagined receiving.