Today is Monday, June 9th, 2014.
44 years ago, June 9th, 1970, I was born. It was a Tuesday. I was born in a small hospital in Invermay, Saskatchewan, on the eastern side of the province. My dad was a teacher working in Margo, my mom was a home maker and a piano and voice teacher in the home.
Some say you hit midlife crisis in your 40’s. I don’t see it that way. I look back on my life and think of all the things I’ve done. After all, for almost ten years I’ve worked in the newspaper industry as a page layout and graphic designer. That’s one fourth of my life. Before that, during the 90s I was working on and off in broadcasting with stops at different radio stations. Either as a news reporter or as an on air announcer.
My parents are in their 70s. They’re 26 years older than me. They’ve got another 20 years at least. And if I can live that long, then I’m doing pretty good. Think of the things that could be accomplished in 46 years. That’s two more years than I’ve been alive, and maybe five of my first few years was spent learning how to walk, talk and not pee myself.
I’ve got decades left to write those books, so I’m not going to stress out over getting them completed now. Because there’s a lot of other things that I need to do, that I don’t even know I want to do at present.
This 44th birthday isn’t a lament on what I could have done. It’s a hope for the things I can do.