I turned forty yesterday.
Everyone I know has an opinion about turning 40, which seems to be a critical year in the life of a modern human being. In their responsivness to the issue of turning 40, there seem to be three main groups of people:
- Those who say “It’s just a number.”
- Those who say “You look great for your age.”
- Those who say “It’s better than the alternative.”
Here’s the thing: they’re all right. And I’m feeling alright.
My wife treated me to a wonderfully relaxing, enjoyable and thoroughly memorable weekend. No surprise parties, no question-and-answer periods, no pressures. Just the joy of knowing that I was loved and that I’m an extremely fortunate individual. I counted blessings all weekend. Here are forty of the more publishable ones:
- Being alive.
- Being known.
- Being healthy.
- Being wealthy.
- Being wise.
- Being a father.
- Being a husband.
- Being self-employed.
- Being awake.
- Being Jewish.
- Being wordly.
- Being on earth.
- Being honest.
- Being trustworthy.
- Being sane.
- Being of medium build.
- Being technical.
- Being productive.
- Being in Canada.
- Being able to read.
- Being able to write.
- Being able to think.
- Being able to create.
- Being able to own.
- Being able to fight.
- Being able to form.
- Being able to fantasize.
- Being able to run.
- Being able to rest.
- Being able to rat.
- Being able to spent.
- Being able to save.
- Being able to decide.
- Being able to be wrong.
- Being able to resist.
- Being able to recognize.
- Being able to realize.
- Being able to blog.
- Being able to bleed.
- Being able to ride.