On Turning 40

Forty years ago, on June 20, 1969, at 2:00 in the afternoon, I first came into this world, probably kicking and screaming, but not going anywhere fast. Since then, I sometimes whether I have gone anywhere ever.

When I was a teenager, one of my older friends turned 40. I could hardly believe it.

“You’re 40?!” I said.

“Yes.” She nodded.

I remember, I thought that was so old. And since then, from time to time, I myself have felt old. But what does that mean, “old”?

“Old” means obsolete, yesterday’s relic.

“Old” means tired and broken down, worn by time.

“Old” means showing the signs of age, wrinkles around the eyes, a paunch on the belly, love handles hanging off the sides.

“Old” means disease, closeness to death, a course of medications to take every day, the fear of time itself, keenly aware that time is escaping.

Why?

It was the fear of turning 40 that spurred me on to finish Love through the Eyes of an Idiot at breakneck speed. This book is the true story of my own search for the secret of love, sex, and romance. I wanted to finish it before I turned 40, because I wanted to have that accomplishment under my belt. I wanted to go over the hill feeling as though I had accomplished something significant.

But this project had an interesting side effect. It forced me to take a look back at my youth. I sifted through old letters and journals, old papers, old photos. I dug up old memories and old feelings.

I first became interested in girls when I was 12. I met Margaret (who became my wife) when I was 22. For those 10 years, I was miserable. I wasn’t miserable because of anything that was happening to me, but because of what I was doing to myself. Being a teenager, my life was full of hormones, strong feelings, and lack of experience. No wonder I was miserable.

My 20’s were a little better. Margaret and I had each other. We began a family. That was the decade of the dot-com boom, but I didn’t take part in it. I continued to work for the same employer throughout, because I liked working there. I felt comfortable. Career-wise, I should have experienced every different kind of experience I could get my hands on. And I should have pushed my salary as high as it could have gone. But I didn’t learn until later how that would have benefited me.

During my 30’s, I was laid off, had two different jobs, started consulting independently, and changed careers. But what I remember most about my 30’s was that I learned about marketing and about people and about leadership. Before, I had been a fact-driven creature, and I assumed I could change the minds of others if I were right. Not so, because people have feelings, too, and in reality we usually decide what to do based on our feelings, and then we use our intellect to figure out a reason why that’s the right decision.

In my 30’s, I also developed my skills as a writer. I became interested in writing fiction, started learning about fiction, started reading more fiction. A side effect of this was that I learned more about people, because fiction is about people. I also learned a tremendous amount about psychology, which I have applied to the stories I have written. But this education also taught me about myself and my relationships.

During my 30’s my children turned from little ones into young women. I see much of Margaret and me in them, and my family has become the most important thing in my life. My marriage has also become better with age, as a bottle of fine wine, because Margaret and I have learned more and more about each other and how to appreciate and relate to each other better. The romance, rather than dwindling, has in fact intensified.

Everyone looks back at youth as though it were something to be desired: young, vivacious, full of energy, full of life. But youth is also awkward, inexperienced, idiotic, and full of misconceptions and misdirected priorities.

“Old” ought to mean wizened, experienced, expert, seeing the forest for the trees like “an old friend,” able to appreciate life, because life gets better as you age. In one study, senior citizens were asked to rate the quality of their lives by decade. They responded that their 60’s were the best, followed by their 50’s, 40’s, 30’s, and 20’s, in that order.

Now that I’ve reached the crest of the so-called hill, I’m looking ahead and finding that it was but an optical illusion. In reality, it’s a mountain, not a hill, and now I’m staring up toward a renewed climb to even higher heights. Only God knows exactly where this climb will lead me, but I anxiously await the excitement and satisfaction that lies along the way.

-TimK