Tonight is the last night of my 50's, as I turn 60 years old tomorrow. As an adult, I've never been a big birthday guy. Because my father died so young, at age 30, it's always seemed like I'm living on borrowed time. For that reason, I guess, I never really enjoyed celebrating my birthday or making a big deal out of it.
With JP on his way home from Tasmania, and Jude and Joe in Nashville with work (Jude) and school obligations (Joe), I'm more than comfortable turning 60 by myself, on the Mountain, at Sewanee. In fact, I kind of prefer it that way if I'm being honest. Being by myself gives me the time and space to reflect, which is what I really needed this week and on this birthday.
It's funny, so many people have told me how surprised they are that I'm turning 60. They tell me I don't look 60. I don't know about that. I'm pretty sure I don't act like I'm 60, which just might be by design.
In the mornings, I often feel every bit of 60. My low back hurts, especially in the mornings, when I get up. Some mornings, it hurts worse than others, but the pain is always there. The pain is not debilitating by any stretch and for that, I am grateful. It's been more than a decade since I've had an episode where low back pain put me out of commission, thankfully. Still, I have a sneaking suspicion that my low back pain is likely to increase as I get older.
I'd like to think that running regularly helps keep me young on some level. I have found that running longer than three miles is harder than it's ever been. Why? Well, that's the question. It is because I never ran longer than three miles in 2025 and in 2026, to date, I've rarely run longer than that? Perhaps. Or, maybe it's because I'm getting older and my stamina is not what it once was. Probably, it's a little of both.
I don't think I'm prepared, tonight, to grapple with the larger, existential questions about life. In many ways, I'd have to be a self-absorbed asshole to complaint about turning 60 when my friend, Ed Silva, has been diagnosed with Mantle cell (non-Hodgkin) lymphoma, and another friend's 58 year old brother just fond out he has stage 4 pancreatic cancer. And on and on it goes.
The lesson, I think, as I told Joe the other night, is to be thankful - not superficially thankful - but really, deeply thankful each and every day we have on this beautiful and complicated earth.
Enjoy and appreciate the little things. A song that moves you. A laugh with a friend. A good glass of wine. A three mile run. A good night's sleep. Family. Steady and satisfying work. A book that resonates with you. A telephone call with a friend you haven't spoken to in a while. A warm hug. A good cup of coffee. A beautiful sunset. Sitting with you family in church on a Sunday morning. A walk in the neighborhood.
At 60, or almost 60, my life is not perfect. But, when I stop and think, when I reflect, it's damn close to perfect.
I have a beautiful, intelligent, strong, capable, intelligent wife. Jude is the best mother our boys could possibly have. She is there, and my, everything. JP, at 18, and Joe, at 14, are everything any father could ask for in a two sons. I live my life for them. What more could I ask for?
God is good. Always good. And I am so very blessed.
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