Pressdog.com

Pressdog Turns 40

By Bill Zahren
(Posted 02/09/04)

In one sense, I'm really not that much older than I've always been.

An introverted, solitude lover, I've always acted about 35 years old. Even in college, when the crazy kids were drinking and going to bars until dawn, I was usually in bed by 10. I'm allergic to the two main features of popular bars -- cigarette smoke and crowds.

I celebrated the morning of my 40th birthday (February 7) by doing what us hip, white-hot, trend-setting, 40-year-olds do: I went to the bookstore and communed silently with my fellow boring duffers.

I amused myself in the Barnes and Noble café by estimating how much younger I was than everyone who went to the counter. "No way I'm older than her," I thought while peeking over my "how to be a successful manager" book. "And he's got to be at least seven years older than me. God, I don't look as old as this guy over here, do I?"

My huge midlife-crisis purchase consisted of squandering $16 whole dollars on an Evanescence album. (Lead singer Amy Lee, crazy costumes, wild hair, best new artist Grammy - striking). I spent $150 on some boots the day I turned 35. At this rate, by the time I turn 50, my idea of radical fiscal behavior will be buying a New York Times.

Just thinking -- or worse yet, saying -- "I'm 40" still freaks me out. My 30s seemingly vanished overnight. Sometimes I feel like a 28-year-old trapped inside a 40-year-old body. I remember when my father turned 40 (I was 10) and I figured he was pretty much ready for the home. Now he's coming up on 70 and I'm starting to worry about things like the health of my joints, hip replacements and, after watching the Super Bowl, "erectile dysfunction."

(Nothing to worry about so far though, Honey!)

My hearing, however, has seemingly improved with age. I can clearly hear all the crap that pours out of the radio station my 12-year-old always selects. Is it just me, or are there a lot more songs about genitals these days? I'm pretty sure a Grammy Award-nominated "artist" had a big hit singing about his penis. Just on the way home tonight, I heard an over-the-air radio broadcast of the a song that featured the words "balls" and "nipples."

Speaking of nipples, I bought Janet Jackson's Control album on cassette when it first came out (now that's old) and dug it a lot. Janet is only a few years younger than me. And when she "accidentally" whipped out the Super Bowl Hooter (which struck me as Janet heaving a grappling hook to haul herself up from the celebrity C list), I thought, "What's her father have to be thinking?"

Plus, when you're a 40-year-old husband and father, a naked hooter has a much different impact than it did when you were, say, 19.

Today I'm all like, "Just put that thing away, Janet." That's sooooo LaToya. When you're 40, the whole crotch-grabbing, writhing, dominatrix, flag-ponchoed Super Bowl half time just seems silly and self-indulgent. If you're such a gangstah, Mr. Crotch, we could use you over in Iraq, where real Americans, including a lot of Iowans, are getting shot at while you're getting $75,000 for four minutes' work in Houston.

You wanna buss a cap, G? Get in your hoopity and roll on down to the recruiting station. Word to your First Armored posse. True dat.

Speaking of Iraq, the 40-year-old me certainly hopes the war isn't inconveniencing anyone. "Go about your business," says G.W. That whole ridding the world of evil thing isn't going to cost ya a dime in taxes or a minute of inconvenience! Y'all need to go out and buy a ton of stuff and spend, spend, spend! That's your "sacrifice" for the war effort. We're just putting the whole war bill on the kids' credit cards anyway.

It's war on the cheap. And that kind of thing bugs us old farts.

Which brings up an advantage to cresting the 40-year-old hill. People write you off as old and give up trying to change you. Marketers are chasing the "young consumers" so they're leaving me alone in droves. People start to think you're "old and set in your ways" and stop badgering you to embrace the latest fads in this and that. Getting older gives you the kind of personal perspective that only comes with the passing years. I realize now that 98% of what in my youth seemed catastrophic actually wasn't. Getting older also makes it abundantly clear that life is too short to get knotted up about every little thing.

So now that everyone thinks I'm old, I can get on with a slow, inexorable slide into crusty old manhood wherein I care less and less what people think. It's rather liberating, actually. This getting old stuff might not be as bad as I thought.

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