Recently a good friend of mine pestered me, asking me over and over again to post a piece I wrote on my 40th birthday. I finally found the narrative and here it is just as I originally wrote it:
Grab a cup of coffee or tea, sit back and relax and try to enjoy a bit of me.
Over Forty for the First Time
A Hodgepodge of Thoughts by
Palmer Pinckney II
Have you heard the news? Forty is now the new 30. What the heck does this mean? Damn media.
In celebration of my life in the the forties I continue to wake up in the mornings. I continue my quest for “Life's Instruction Manual.” Damn. Would have really thought “They” would have delivered it by today (at a minimum!).
Tried to stifle the urge to peruse eBay looking for styl-ish 1980’s Farrari/Maserati/Lamboghini coupe. Not red – too damn stereotypical. Wasn’t successful, but thankfully only bid insufficient amounts.
This weekend’s SPAM (junk e-mail) has been ferocious. Three an hour – and all focused on my whatnot. At least the euphemisms are worth reading, “Willy, Potato Man, One-eyed Snake, Love Muscle, your Member, Erect-oid, Ejaculator, your Johnson, your Manhood, Schlong, Love Monkey, Spud Stud, etc. Do they know something about being 40 that I don’t? Should I be getting concerned? Does some marketing guru keep a master list of those males who are 40 and then they let loose the torrents of anxiety-raising questions regarding one’s sexual competency. Is this SPAM a portion of the Instruction Manual for which I have been searching diligently?
Cumulative knowledge I have learned in the last 40 years:
Only when I stop and think about it, do I realize that I am the luckiest person I know. In the heat of the battle, many aspects/moments of my life can look pretty uncomfortable/dire.
No one has ever asked me what my high school or college GPA was. Ever. Bastards! My high school guidance consoler told me that I’d never amount to a pile of beans unless I earned a few B’s & C’s. I worked my ass off for nothing - Frickin Idiot!
My wife is remarkable. She is truly beautiful. Her adaptability is amazing. I want to become a better person just to make her happier. She can also be a huge challenge. That said, the good will always outweigh the bad. (I sincerely hope the “Instruction Manual” has some helpful hints regarding Peri-menopause. If it does not, this is going to be an interesting few years.)
High school friends remain amongst the closest I have. But the onus is on me to keep all of my friends. I need to initiate the communication – or the friendships inevitably fade…
Being a “leader” has advantages and disadvantages. But I believe that all humans irrespective of roll - have a stress-builder mechanism. Hence if you are a battlefield surgeon saving soldier’s lives, or a trust-funded twenty-something, your mind/body creates stress. My guess: this human facet possibly has something to do with our creator’s sense of humor and our knowledge/instinct that we must be ready to run from the saber-tooth tiger or a big ass bear.
Perception is everything. Aristotle had it right ~24 hundred years ago. The person you are trying to persuade will be more malleable if you understand their needs/desires/motivations and modify your message to the same.
Laughter cures almost all. Such a powerful emotion.
I change over time. I love spinach. I no longer appreciate the spinning cups amusement ride.
Giving is more fun than receiving.
People with wealth are not necessarily happier than people without wealth. Happiness seems to be derived from being appreciative for what you have and the life you live.
I am often the most fortunate when I just say “yes.” I occasionally have regrets when I say “no.”
My mother, one of the planet’s wisest beings, used to tell us that M&Ms, Desitin Antiseptic, and gray tape could be used to fix just about anything.
Argue for your limitations, and they are yours.
Things I don’t understand:
Why can’t I be more tolerant? I try hard, but I often fail.
Why do people pay for “lift” kits on pick-up trucks/SUVs that never see more than their lawn? That $1000 could house and feed the average family in India for 4 years.
Were there really this many pervs prior to the advent of the Internet?
Why do tiny Asian women always ask for the Emergency Exit Aisle seats on airplanes? These are the only seats in coach class fit for a man over 6’7” tall. Me!
Why don’t airlines institute some carnival/amusement ride clown-signage that says, “You must be taller than my hand to ask for this prized seat.”?
Why don’t many people understand that they control their own destiny?
Why do dogs stretch so often? They must understand something I do not.
Why does anyone really care who Richard Gere, Jennifer Lopez, Cher and Merv Griffin are supporting for the Presidential Democratic nominee? Shouldn’t we be asking really smart people who they are supporting and why? Let’s ask the Nobel Prize winners their opinions… at least they’d be somewhat credible.
Why does chocolate chip cookie dough taste considerably undesirable cold and uncooked, while day-old re-heated pizza taste like heaven?
Why can’t certain people tell the difference between a Democrat and a Republican? Why can’t we have more recalls like we had for the Governor of California? I want hundreds of choices when we elect someone to any political office.
When did we lose objective news reporting? When did the networks/publishers decide that we actually wanted/cared what their political inclinations were?
Why don’t people read more?
Why don’t we have cures and vaccines for cancer, AIDS, Alzheimer’s, the common cold, various addictions and especially Parkinson’s Disease?
What the hell is all this nose hair about? And gray nose hairs? Yikes.
Some facts about me:
I’m not as smart as I appear. I’m wiser than you may be aware. I’ll be anyone’s friend unconditionally.
My favorite color is Gray.
If I had one wish that could be granted I ask for peace on earth (I mean it.).
I was born without a sports bone in my body, but I do look good 'trying' to play the game.
I think too damn much and I just can’t stop doing it. I believe this has been a problem for me much of my life and why so many misunderstand my representation.
Yes, I love Star Trek (don’t get me wrong, I don’t dress up like a Klingon or anything) I just grew up as a fan and continue to be one today.
Pictures are not important to me, memories are.
I hate alarm clocks.
I vote! And really don’t understand Americans that don’t.
I don’t know what “incunabula” means.
My favorite books:
(I had to really work here, I’m not known for knowing an author’s name)
Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. I think of myself as/want to be Hank Rearden.
Richard Bach’s Illusions. Yes, it is early-70’s hippy silliness/idealism – but I believe sincerely. And I see blue feathers nearly everywhere I look. I never have bugs on my windshield.
Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut. The very best satire of human motivations…
Neuromancer by William Gibson. Cyber-punks rule.
Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson. The scary part of this book is how real “it” all is…
Empire Falls by Richard Russo. Terrific writer.
High Fidelity by Nick Hornsby. Yeah, the movie was good also, but all of Hornsby’s writings make me laugh/sob to the core.
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers. Not the novel you may be accustomed to…but that’s more reason for you to read it.
When I was an angry young single man, I re-read Men without Women by Ernest Hemmingway at least 2 dozen times. The man could write.
Tales from Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffet. Brilliant. Oh, and funny.
Eric Segal’s Love Story. Can still draw tears just thinking about Jen.
The Truth Machine by James Halperin. Life in 2004?
The Thin Man by Dashell Hammett. 1930’s glamorous couple that solve murders on three martinis before lunch.
Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. America – what a country.
Irving Stone’s The Agony and the Ecstasy. Historical fiction about the Renaissance and the sculptor Michelangelo.
Many worlds, many choices in Einstein’s Dreams by Alan Lightman.
Carl Hiaasen’s Basket Case – comic crime genre (really).
The king of twisty-plots – Charles Palliser and his book, Betrayals.
I have really enjoyed every Harry Potter book written (When I finally got to read them – Thanks Ben and Diann). What an imagination she has!
Goodbye, Good Men -- Michael S. Rose. Answers the “Why?” with regards to the present scandal in the Catholic Church organization. Outstanding read.
The Bible. Ummm. Need I tell you about this one?
There is no better “escape” than anything by: Forsythe; Ludlum; Clancy; le Carre; Coonts; and Coban. I often learn more about the world via these books, than all the CNN/Fox News/BBC/MSNBC combined.
You know, I am getting pretty damn old and presumptuous that I feel I can list my favorite books. My hubris (I know what this word means) is huge - especially from a guy that was third in his HS class - third from the bottom.
Favorite Jokes:
A mushroom walks into a Bar and asks for a Martini. The bartender looks up from his newspaper and is startled to see a mushroom asking for a drink. The bartender says, “We don’t usually serve your kind in this bar.” The mushroom replies, “Why not? I am a fungi.”
A piece of string walks into the same bar a few hours later and also asks for a Martini. The bartender is quite surprised and annoyed to see a piece of string asking for a drink. “Get out of here! We don’t serve string here,” yelled the bartender. The string walked outside the bar and greeted a passerby. “Sir, may I ask you a favor.” The passerby was not accustomed to meeting and talking to string, but agreed to listen. “Would you kindly tie me in a knot?” asked the string. The passerby told the string that the request was weird, but he agreed and tied the string into a knot. “And Sir, before you go, will you unravel my ends?” The passerby thought this was especially weird, but complied and quickly left the scene. The piece of string reentered the bar and asked for a double martini. The bartender looked up from his newspaper and asked, “Aren’t you that piece of string I just threw out of here?” The string answered, “No I am a frayed knot.”
A horse walks into the bar about ten minutes later and sits next to the piece of string. The bartender looks up from his newspaper and asks, “Hey buddy, why the long face?”
Speaking of horses, here’s my favorite alcoholic joke,”A drunken woman decides to try horseback riding, even though she has had no lessons or prior experience. She mounts the horse unassisted and the horse immediately springs into motion. It gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, but the drunken woman begins to slip from the saddle.
In terror, she grabs for the horse's mane, but cannot seem to get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse's neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway. The horse gallops along, seemingly oblivious to its slipping rider. Finally, giving up her frail grip, she leaps away from the horse to try and throw herself to safety.
Unfortunately, her foot has become entangled in the stirrup; she is now at the mercy of the horse's pounding hooves as her head is struck against the ground over and over. As her head is battered against the ground, she is mere moments away from unconsciousness when to her great fortune . . . the Supermarket manager sees her and shuts the horse off.”
Back to the question regarding Life’s Instruction Manual… Anybody have a spare copy that they can lend me? I’ve “Googled” for it – but no luck. When I was very young (age 4-12 approximately), I had a recurring dream that there was a vast Matrix-like conspiracy where I was sort of a laboratory experiment – with the entire world controlled by women who wanted to see/examine how I reacted to various situations and stimuli. Cameras, recorders, and “special agents” (usually attractive women), follow my every move and report back to Headquarters (looks a lot like the Bat Cave in my dreams). In these dreams (almost always a new plot every evening – but the same characters), I am occasionally able to make these quasi-scientific voyeurs inadvertently reveal themselves, (much to my triumph and their embarrassment). These female ultra-manipulators also try to inject me with Saccharin in order to put me in an agreeable trance-like state. Now over the last thirty or so years, I have learned that this dream is just that – a dream, (their Headquarters building is for example - not the Bat Cave! It is the Empire State Building in NYC). But what does the good “Manual” have to say about the subject? Women are nearly 52% of the entire world-wide population, and yet they don’t squish us men like the bugs we are. What’s up with that? Another conspiracy where the schlong-less actually pretend to moan about being second-class, and yet know in their hearts and minds that they rule the world? We men are so stupid – we’d probably fall for that kind of ploy…
One morning my wife asked me to make breakfast as she wished to remain in bed sleeping. She tried to make it funny – she said, “The room service in this hotel sucks!” It was then it hit me, I was the room service in this hotel. It’s true. Me = room service. Damn.
When I turned forty, I bet myself that a friend would say, “How’s it feel to know you’re half-way through the race?” Damn, I was right. Some foolish one actually asked this silly question.
Who said anything about a race? (Must be something that I am unaware of due to my lack of acquiring/reading the Instruction Manual.)
And halfway? Wow. How does my friend know? Was it a slip of the tongue – please tell me my friend is not one of “Them?”
Oh damn. Back to bed for me – where it is safe and “just a dream.”
Turning 40 kind of snuck up on me. Nonetheless now I am. After all, my brother, who's eight years older, has been quiet about his age for years. By his clock, I'm probably still 35. Or 33.
But it happened anyway and I'm pleasantly surprised most by what hasn't happen.
No red car. No strippers. No too-sexy-for-my-shirt addition to the wardrobe.
The day itself isn't a big deal at all. It was more a process of a few weeks leading up to it, and the days around it, where I feel sort of a lower sense of gravity in my self than I have before.
I'm calm. Having spent the last seven years working on my writing, with some real success, a lot of cool stories and even more quantifiable improvement, I was able to square myself in the mirror and say, “Hey, you did what you said you were going to do.”
Thoughts of the future, and goals still to be met pressed on me just a little. “I'll get to them,” I said, and sat down and sketched out some plans to do that. But no real big crisis.
The other benefits of the 40's, the real ones, however, are here for a while, I think. Less anxiety about what will happen next, nagging question like “Am I going to be late?” don’t irritate me anymore. An ability to focus on what I'm supposed to do and a general sense of well-being that I was surprised to find does come with having lived enough to know what's important.
God Bless America!
and God Bless You.
Thanks for reading, thanks for visiting.
