It’s been several years since my children playfully informed me on my birthday that I was halfway through life — and that’s if I’m lucky.
Another birthday has come around this week, and now, just shy of 50, I’m probably well past the midpoint on my journey. That’s OK. As Paul Simon said, “I’m older than I once was, and younger than I’ll be.”
I seem to have largely skirted my midlife crisis, not by buying a sports car, but with the purchase of a 12-string guitar.
I’m grateful to be married still to the wife of my youth, whose kindness, warmth and generosity make it so rewarding to do my best for her.
Our three good kids are all teenagers, and, rather than the horrors that we were led to expect from this stage, our teenagers are fun, clever and loving. It’s a hoot and a holler being their dad. Tiring at times, but what good effort isn’t?
This week we helped our oldest son move out as he began studying at university. It was a bit emotional for us as parents, but I tried to focus on the blessings that God has given to our family throughout the generations, and on our opportunity and mission to reflect his light out into an often dark world.
I wake up every morning with a prayer of thankfulness. Blessings abound.
I thought about those this year as we enter another cycle of the seasons, with the reds and purples of autumn just beginning to pop up on the dogwood along the creek outside our kitchen window.
This week, I watched little ones playing soccer at Stan Hedwall Park as I waited for my youngest, now long past their “chase the ball around the field” stage of soccer, to finish his own practice.
Behind us, I heard the sound of enthusiasm as young elementary-aged cheerleaders practiced their joyful noises.
An hour later at W.F. West, I watched the high school soccer team and sang along to “On Chehalis” after each goal, led by high-schoolers on the cusp of adulthood.
I’m double, maybe triple their age now, but I still feel the enthusiasm of all those young cheerleaders.
I like to think it’s contagious. I was the only adult standing, singing and chanting along with the fight song at the beginning of the game, but a few goals later, I thought I heard a little singing in the grown-ups around us.
I’m comfortable with my role as the bold one (or oddball) who demonstrates that being excited about life just might be OK. Is it cool? I’ve never had to worry about being cool!
But it catches the joy of being alive, and that might just be better.
One of my children, age 9, said something years ago that I still come back to.
"Dad, you know how people try to figure out the meaning of life? I think I figured it out ... I think the meaning of life is to meet people, to be with people, to love, to have heart filled to bursting, to try to be somebody. Why else would God put us here?"
Amen, my child.
My great-uncle, Jim Quitslund, expressed the creed of our Swedish immigrant family this way: “Recognize the bad, put it behind you, and try to help your neighbors.”
As the turning of the calendar on my birthday marks another year, and the turning of the leaves heralds the changing of the seasons, I’m honored to be here in this moment at the turning of the generations.
No one lives forever on this earth, but to be able to walk alongside our children to build a worthwhile, simple life here with eyes always on the life to come in heaven is even better.
Or, as I have distilled into my own life philosophy: try to do good with the good folks around me, and have a good time doing it.
The birthday gifts just keep on giving.
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Brian Mittge has covered local life for The Chronicle since 2000 as a reporter and now a columnist. He can be reached at brianmittge@hotmail.com.
