C I P R I A N I

Thankfully I’m not yet 50. 

For that matter, I’m not even 40.  But soon enough…

I’ve probably given too much thought to time and death and life and span and memories and the past and the future at the expense of a more focused present.

Probably? 

I have.  But if age has taught me anything, it’s to work on overcoming that little idiosyncrasy.

Nevertheless, now I think, just after midnight in Los Angeles, seeing that 40 year signpost up ahead, listening to #41, remembering a time when 30 seemed to be an almost unimaginable distance – or least a destination that has now proven to be an alternate reality.  In fact at the time I was closer to 20, that night in Morgantown when I first heard #41.

There is nothing remarkable about that particular memory.  There was no girl, no beer, no party, no accident, nothing.

At least, nothing that I remember.  In fact, I don’t actually even remember the first time I heard it and only suspect I was sitting alone in my room after purchasing the CD late at night.  I think it was late at night.  

I think it was late at night.

Then again, if I “suspect” or “think”, it’s not even a memory, is it?

And what does it matter?  I’ve felt about the same all these years – perhaps I felt smarter then, though I know full well I’m wiser now. 

And what have I done?  What haven’t I done?  What am I going to do?  What will I have done?

What’s next?  What now? 

What’s done is done.

More or less, it all does go by pretty fast doesn’t it?  And I suspect when I am 50, if I’m lucky enough to arrive there and beyond, I won’t feel much different.  At least that’s what I’m told.  My dad said shortly after hitting 60 that he still felt 25.

It always bugged me that Sinatra gave up on “good years” after 35.

35?

After 35, the days got short and the autumn of the years began, but Sinatra was kickin into his 80’s.  Sure he probably leveled off somewhere in the 70’s (his age or the decade, depending on who you ask) but either way, though I was always a fan of autumn, Sinatra and 35 for that matter sometimes it all feels like…

Now.

And the older I get, even then feels like now.  

Or vice versa.