The Richard Petty of Birthdays

Mister The King

What is it about birthdays that brings on thoughts about mortality? I mean, statistically speaking, it’s not like my odds of kicking the bucket have increased significantly in the last 24 hours. So why do I feel the bittersweet pangs of melancholy?

Maybe it’s because my birthday happens in the season of the lilacs. Although, if it happened in the season of the falling leaves I think I’d feel even more mortal. Maybe it’s just a convenient excuse to let these ghosts out of the cellar for their annual haunt, before I lock them away again for another year.

I grow old… I grow old… I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled…

I have nothing to say that others have not already said more eloquently before me. Sometimes it makes me wish I had been born a thousand years ago, so I could at least claim an original thought. Then I remember what their personal hygiene was like, and I feel glad to live in the 21st Century. We may never get our jet packs, and our teleporters, but there’s no denying the glory of indoor plumbing.

I’m halfway to Eighty-Six, which sounds a lot worse than it is. Why I’ve still got over 20 years until I have to worry about retiring. Uh, wait… that’s not making me feel any better.

I’m twice as wise as I was at 21-1/2! I’m twice as experienced! Twice as savvy! Five times more wealthy! I’ve been to 20+ more countries, and met thousands more people than I had then! I’ve drunk countless delicious beers, and supped on thousands of delectable meals! I have two wonderful children, and a beautiful wife! A loving family! Lots of new and old friends!

Hot damn. It’s working.

I haz a blog!!!!

OK, let’s quit while I’m ahead.

Sorry folks. No stories today. I’ve been casting my nets, but they keep coming up empty at the moment.


31 thoughts on “The Richard Petty of Birthdays

  1. Happy Birthday Old Man! (I turn 44 on Sunday) Wait until you get to be MY age! THEN you’ll know what it’s like to be old.

    Seriously, have a great one!

  2. Age is just a number, my friend. Incidentally, it does correlate to the number of yard-sellable items in your storage, weird collections of gifts that you can’t get rid of, knowledge of music that today’s kids either don’t get, or think they might know better than you, and bitterness for the way things used to be.

    You’re a pioneer. Why, I remember when people like you were hoisted up on a other men’s shoulders! Granted, it was to throw you out of the bar, but the fact is that you made enough of a stir to be thrown out. You’re a mover and a shaker, and you’ll knock a motha out.

    Suddenly I feel like I’m signing your yearbook…

    Peace out, sauerkraut. Stay kool.
    Jon “awesomesauce” Scott (2011)

  3. Keep in touch over the summer!
    Sorry, KYA made me do that.
    Anyway I plan to have my mid forties face lift a la “Brazil” as soon as I save enough money and get rid of these pesky lice.

  4. Oh my gosh, AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!
    Man I’m a jerk. It took me two comments to get around to telling you that. More proof of what a self centered moron I am.

        • I’m nearly positive you don’t mean us, we’re all the really good ones. Right? Right? I’m right-handed. Did you know that? A lot of people don’t know that. I mean, not a lot of people ask, but I guess that’s why I told you.

        • From your longest lasting(and most self-centered) friend. Happy Birthday. So sorry I was too self absorbed to remember it was yesterday. But at least I ain’t no moron. You’ll have to find someone else to fill that role. Remember when we used to play a drinking game around “guess which town idiot” that I am referring to….Ah, Tim W.

          Happy belated,

          me. (aka it’s all about me)

          • Thanks you!

            Ouch! I had forgotten “name the town idiot”. What horrible people we were. (are)

            I wonder if other towns had similar collections of mentally challenged folks roaming the streets. Maybe it was something in the water.

  5. Dude you’er 43 go enjoy a beer and a ride in that order. You are too young to worry about that shit. As they say (and I am 55) you are right now having your day in the Sun… Take advantage!


  6. Happy Birthday! I’d call you “old man” but since I’m 43 also I’d have to include myself in that aged category and that just wouldn’t suffice. Plus, I don’t feel a day over 41, so there. Hope the day brings you much love.

  7. how could you not love the Petty ’69 Dodge Daytona 426 HEMI… back when it was “Stock-Car” Racing…

    happy birthday my man..

    • That my friend is a 69′ Plymouth Superbird, built specifically by MOPAR for the King, as he had agreed to run Plymouth that season, but wanted one just like the Dodge Daytona. Plymouth had to rush production of 2,000 of them to qualify as “stock” per the NASCAR rules at the time.

      Sigh… simpler days. Sometimes I feel like the two of us were born 20-30 years too late.

  8. What is it with the angst of those of us born in 1968? As one to be a 43’r this year, but class of droolers just the same, I’ve often wondered how much the stress of our mothers looking at the chaos of the world around them brought those tendancies out. Or if the fact that my parents were the last of the war kids, not quite boomers just made them kind of nuts to begin with?
    Regardless, many warm wishes for a happy, and healthy year to come and many more to follow. You’re a valued friend and one hell of a writer. And, just like the commercial says “Stay thirsty my friend”

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