|Pop Culture Gadabout|
Thursday, June 17, 2010 |
( 6/17/2010 06:14:00 AM ) Bill S.
SOME TIMES THE LIGHT’S ALL SHINING ON ME/OTHER TIMES I CAN BARELY SEE. Whoa, sixty. Six-oh. There are times in my life I’d have laid odds against ever reaching this milestone, but here we are. My sixtieth birthday.
Don’t think my younger self would’ve visualized myself where I’ve wound up these days, but, hey what’d that young punk know? I think of where we were a year ago on my b-day -- me, frantically looking for employment after an ego-smiting lay-off -- and I think thank God we’re not there. Of course, this time last year we were also looking at a still-fresh box of novels with the names “Rebecca Fox and William Sherman” on ‘em, which was and is undeniably cool even if we did wind up getting our magnum opus published in a shitty climate for small book publishers. I still feel proud about the novel.
I’m not much driven toward long-form introspection. The same intellectual flightiness and distractibility which led me into spending most of my adult life as both a writer and a social services professional, sometimes to the expense of both activities, keeps me from delving too deeply into questions about How I’ve Spent My Life. This has prevented me, I suspect, from such clichéd behaviors as the Middle-Age Crazies, which is probably a good thing. We’ve never had enough money for me to try and indulge in that.
And I am happy for many of the things that are part of my life these days. My loving spouse of twenty-five plus years, the vast menagerie of animals that are part of our household, the people we’ve met, the family still around, the books and music and other pieces of disposable entertainment that have been such a part of my life. The moments when I just step outside into the yard and look at the mountain and think yeah, that's something.
Do I occasionally have geezerly moments when I look outside at the world around me and despair at the way the world is moving? Certainly. But you don’t spend the bulk of your life in the helping professions without a core of cautious optimism within you. You don’t spend hours writing -- even if it’s about something as ephemeral as pop culture -- without hoping that something you might write will positively connect with someone. So I don’t hold onto those moments of existential angst for too long. Another advantage of my flibbertigibbet nature, I suppose.
(A recent pic of me and the pups taken by my sweetie.)
Labels: me me me# |