The above cake is not to celebrate by 68th birthday. As the old joke goes, were I to put that many candles on a cake, it would look like a forest fire.
But yes, in a week or so I am going to celebrate another orbit around the sun. Whoopie.
I am two years out from being officially out to pasture. I no longer am referred to as “that young man who…” Women no longer gaze at me longingly, wondering what kind of a father I would be. (For the record, my son tells me that I am a pretty good father, sometimes foolish, sometimes wise, always there when he needs me.)
When I went to my 50th high school reunion last month (Los Altos High School, Hacienda Heights, Class of ’74), I noticed that most of my classmates had retired and were, well, sort of faded.They were nice to me, in fact many of them seemed glad to see me (unlike reunions in the past). But I was one of two persons who had not left the working world for a home in Idaho, or San Juan, or elsewhere. I felt like a kid among adults–contented adults who have done all they can in this world.
Me? I’m still working as a lawyer. Even when I leave the law firm in December, I plan on continuing to represent people in the courthouses of San Bernardino from time to time. It’s just that I’m also going to spend time writing.
Writing! Haven’t been doing much of that lately. I didn’t even do National Novel Writing Month this year because November is the month I moved from the old rental house to the new house which I will own.
Anyway, so long as I continue to work and drink Chuck Norris’ Morning Kick, I’ll be in here swinging. That’s me. That crazy young man with the gray hair and the limp who is still fighting for his clients and writing crazy mysteries, hoping to get published.
Happy Birthday to me. And many more.
Mark Bruce, Writer 