The Age Flip-Flop

For some reason, it occurred to me early on that the older I get the faster I rush headlong into being "comparatively older." That is to say, as each year goes by my comparisons for age distance themselves from me by two years. Of course, I need to not sound like Wooderson when talking about this ("that's what I love about high school girls, man – I keep gettin' older and they stay the saaaaaame aaaaage").

Let's take a look at the more-awesome-by-the-minute Boston Bruins on their championship run. I've loved the Bs since I was a kid, when they were all old guys. In this year's playoff roster, I'm older than everyone but PJ Axelsson, Manny Fernandez, Shane Hnidy, Mark Recchi (well, duh), Tim Thomas, Aaron Ward, and Stephane Yelle. That's 28% of the roster. More than I'd thought, actually. Milan Lucic, the baby of the team, is 11 years younger than me.

I'm not saying I'm old, either – I'm a ripe 32. That's the crazy thing, too. And it's not just sports heroes. I realized that eventually instead of seeing that Bea Arthur died (bless her soul, of course), I'm eventually going to see people like Trent Reznor and Kim Deal pass on. David Bowie and Stevie Nicks. I'm going to see the rest of Skinny Puppy leave this place.

I don't mean to focus on death. God knows we've had enough of that around here lately. It's not just that, anyway. As I get used to seeing my doctor every year (instead of just when I was sick every three years in my 20s), I realize that he's going to retire before I'm done seeing a doctor. Come on, he's awesome. I don't want to have to find another one.

Point being that I'm rapidly approaching the age where I'm older than my sports heroes, my favorite musicians, my doctor, my dentist, etc. Of course, this is going to sound ridiculous to anyone older than me. But hey, we all learn some time. It's just going to take some getting used to.

np: Tegan and Sara - Where Does The Good Go?

Invincibility

Sorry for the drag.

It's easy to feel invincible. ...Until X. Until someone gets sick. Until you hit NN years old. Until someone has a baby and you start to understand that there could possibly be someone more important than you, or your wife, or your parents, or your brothers. Until whatever.

Then it happens. And this is an ABC after-school special. You're in a young company, been there forever; suddenly everyone's getting married, then everyone's having kids, everyone's buying a house. Life is good. Might not be great, but life is good. Hell, life could be fantastic. Future post, perhaps.

How do you, collectively and individually, deal with what has to be the absolutely ultimate tragedy? I don't even know the extent of this. And I'm serious. I pretend to understand -- by which I mean I dread to understand -- the feeling. I'm operating on the inability to process. In absence of the ability to process it, I have to pretend I can process it. That leads to all sorts of thoughts ranging from expected to "what the hell."

I don't want to admit it, but I generally don't know how to act, or react, when I get bad news. It goes way back to the fact that I need to play a role, be a protector, than anything else. Of course, the fact that I'm disturbed by that fact only serves to disturb me more. Why aren't I crying? And I've only gotten bad news twice in my "adult" life beyond grandparents when I was 13 or younger or a buddy that we lost in the military a number of years ago. Aside from those, though, it's been twice in the last week. And it's been a hell of a week to grow older, actually. We all grow older, we form bonds, we make babies, we lose babies, we gain friends, we lose friends, we gain life, and we lose life.

That right there is too introspective to dwell upon.