Know what’s so great about being 55?
- Being past most of the sex and love bullshit. No romantic drama, no overactive genitalia getting me in trouble (or wasting my time), no quest for “the love of my life” nor “the lust of my night,” and therefore much less time wasted.
- I still have enough energy and enthusiasm (and and finally, enough money) to enjoy life. I travel a lot, no longer stay in toilets, always order a side of baba ghanouj even when I’m eating alone, and don’t stress over having to spend an extra twenty bucks on something.
- Having a decent car.
- Not giving a shit what anyone thinks about whether I prefer to spend most of my time alone (eat alone, go to movies alone, travel alone, etc.)
- Loving my job (finally) but not counting on it for all my happiness like I did a few years ago when I was such a basket case.
- Knowing who my real friends are (though I sort of always did).
- Not owing anyone anything but maybe gratitude.
- I’m on the 21st floor looking out at Detroit and you’re not!
Well researched articles in reputable publications, written by knowledgeable professionals who cite legitimate facts and documented sources?
Facebook memes full of outrageous claims, conspiracy theories, misspellings, and stolen images, that cite no sources and are published by some random anonymous guy you’ve never heard of?
Gospel truth, of course.
The problem is not that people are stupid. The problem is that people are lazy.
This is one of my favorite pictures of my dad. He didn’t particularly like to be photographed, so he very often made some kind of goofy grin or hid his face. But this one actually looks like him, which is kind of nice.
I also like it, though, because he’s driving and it makes me think of all the road trips we took when I was a kid (he didn’t like to fly any more than he liked to be photographed) and because in this shot, we just happen to be on the way to Toronto.
It’s weird, though, for me to realize that my dad was about a year younger than I am now when this photo was taken.
I’ve always thought I was more line my mom than my dad in general. We have more of a family resemblance and we maybe shared a few more interests overall. But as I get older, I see more of my dad in me too, or at least the things I romanticize about him, like his love of driving and exploring and the way he always had some little diner tucked away in whichever town we were in.
And his sense of humor.
And the fact that we both ended up a little, uh, endearingly impatient. Yeah. That’s a diplomatic way to put it…
Anyway, I miss him.
Happy Father’s Day.
(noun) The fact or practice of openly having intimate relationships with more than one city at once.
“After his relationship with San Francisco failed, David began exploring polyurbanism and was exhilarated by the freedom of not having to choose a single city to love.”
Making me happy this week:
- St. Elsewhere reruns on Hulu.
- OpenRefine and Oxygen.
- This article that references some weirdo who’s obsessed with supermarket history.
- Apple fritters from Aldi.
- The potential for three consecutive days of sleep (or at least a reasonable proportion of those three days).
- Cleveland and Detroit in April, with maybe a side detour through Southern Ontario.