“I am unwritten, can’t read my mind. I’m undefined
I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand. Ending unplanned”
Natasha Bedingfield – “Unwritten”
In four days I’ll celebrate my 50th birthday. If somebody tells you that being 50 is the new 40, that’s because they probably have already turned 60. The view doesn’t feel so good a few days before.
First of all, let me just acknowledge the elephant in the room. This is a horrible year to be self-pitying about birthdays. The world is having its own coming of age moment that far overshadows my birthday. I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself. However, if hibernation was an option, I would have chosen that instead of being a witness to 2020 and my 50th. “Hold all my calls, forget my 50th birthday and please wake me up in 2021!” With everything that is happening around the world, a milestone birthday shouldn’t be my concern. Nevertheless, it is, and so I am writing about it.
An unexpected start to a new decade
If someone would have asked me ten-years ago, “What will your life be like at age 50?” I think my thoughts would have been:
- I would remain happily married and celebrate all of those important holidays and events with long-time friends and family,
- My rewarding corporate career would continue as I marched towards that symbolic prize of retirement,
- Leaving California would be difficult, but I wouldn’t mind living in Europe for a bit,
- I wouldn’t have imagined earning all of those scarlet letter labels so quickly; W (widower), M (mature), G (greying), S (single), F (foreigner).
- Oh, and no way would I have thought I’d be a “Daddy” in the online dating world. Apparently, there are a lot of 20-somethings out there with father issues. If Tinder swipes, woofs and taps by 20-year olds were euros, I’d have that house on the Amalfi Coast by now.
As far as decades of life go, this last one delivered the most significant coming of age chapter for me. It was full of sweetness and bitterness, yet carefully spaced out so that I could absorb all of the changes. It allowed me to grow, sometimes painfully, but always grow.
Intermission is over. Please take your seats.
If my life was a Broadway show, (As a gay man, I like that comparison.), intermission is over and Act 2 is about to start. It feels like I need to center, take some steps forward and once again begin to construct life in a framework that can support my next act. The actors are changing, the backdrops evolving, and the storyline unwritten, but there is a framework in place to construct the story.
I think I had my first mid-life crisis in my mid-40s, but apparently we are entitled to more than one. This latest one is the realization that the road in front of me is a shorter than the road behind me, and I can start to see how the second half of the show is going to shake out.
On these final days of my 49th year, I’m taking inventory of life; what it was, and what it will be. The goal is to move into this next phase willingly and happily, absent the kicking, screaming and denial that is always nipping at my ego. So here we go – let’s do this coming of age thing!
I’m not ungrateful. Seriously, I’m really not!
As I write this post, I’m sitting looking out the window of an apartment in the 5th arrondissement of Paris (Parigi in italiano.) I am here to start a four-week intensive French language class, and there is no better place to learn French than in Parigi. I’ll be exploring the city for the next four weeks while I attend daily classes to build conversational knowledge. I’m going to try and take this language-learning process a bit easier than I did with italiano. Learning French should be an adventure versus a survival course. I will be satisfied if I can get to the same level of French as I did with Italiano. Then I know I can move between both countries and function well enough to enjoy the best of both.
I’m sure this probably sounds awfully selfish, but this wasn’t the place I thought I would be to celebrate turning 50, and I certainly didn’t expect to be alone. However, I am fortunate that I got to make the choice to be here. I know many people around the world have had their choices made for them and their plans interrupted this year. From weddings and virtual graduations, to Skype birthday parties and drive-by funerals, this has been a difficult year for so many. In the grandest view of the world, my birthday is a small minor inconvenience among the millions of coming of age stories this year.
But my story here in Parigi will end well, even though I’m solo. At midnight on September 3, I plan on being in front of the Eiffel Tower to watch its dazzling light show. It will be an appropriate way to mark the moment, cast out some good energy, and begin a fitting transition to my second act.
I appreciate all of you going along for the literary coming of age ride with me. My next post will be filled with lots of pictures and stories from Parigi, assuming I don’t leap from the top of the Eiffel Tower while I’m there. Be well and stay well. In the meantime, enjoy a few photos from my first few days here.
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