50

When I turned 30, I arrived at work to find a bouquet of black, dead flowers on my desk and an inflatable doll sitting in my chair.  When I turned 40, I was out of the country with Jude, in Tortolla I think, or maybe Scotland.

And now I find myself staring down the barrel of 50.

In less than six months, on July 9, I'll turn 50 years of age.  I have no idea how I got here.  While I guess I knew (or hoped) I would get here eventually, I certainly didn't know I would get here so quickly.

I have a late birthday, so several of my close, longtime friends have already hit the magic number.  First, it was Mike, Darryl, Sistrunk, then Doug.  Over the weekend, I called Rip on his birthday.  His 50th birthday.  He was in Destin, visiting a friend of his who is terminally ill.  When I expressed my condolences, he responded, "Well, it happens.  We're at that age, you know."

We are at that age, for sure.  And I don't much like it.

There seems to be a certain amount of taking stock as one approached the half century mark.  Questions, lots of questions, at least for me.  What have I accomplished?  Where are my friends?  How do I measure up?  How is my health?  How do others see me?  Have I been successful?  Am I living the life I chose or the life that chose me?  Am I happy?  Do I love, or even like, my job?  Does my wife love me?  Am I a good person?  Have I made a difference?  What's left in the time I have?  How much time do I have?

A few months ago, Darryl called me at work and asked to go to lunch.  I hadn't talked to him in ages and in my line of work, a random call from a friend often means he (or she) is having problems at home.  We met at my office and walked to a nearby restaurant on Main Street in Franklin for lunch.  After exchanging pleasantries, we spent several minutes talking in depth about our families.  He and both have two sons, although his are significantly older than mine.

Finally, I asked him, "Is everything okay?"  He looked a little bit stunned, but replied, "Sure.  Everything is great."  When I told him why I had been concerned when he reached out to me, he laughed.  "No, no, no.  Missy and I are great."  I breathed a sigh of relief.

"What made you decide to call me?" I asked.  His response moved me.

"I just turned 50 and I started thinking about the friends in town - the ones who mean a to me - that I never see.  And that I wanted to see.  So, I called you."

Wow.