Thirty

Yesterday, November 21, I turned 30. Actually, I think I turned 30 in a more metaphysical sense six to eight months ago, because when you're 29 you know you are in the twilight of any claims to being in your youth, and you adjust yourself accordingly. But calendar wise, it was thirty years ago yesterday that I came into this world kicking and screaming, my mom and dad's first child, and given my father's name with the Junior suffix.

Yesterday was a good day.

My brother Micah called me. At 7:00 am. He thought it was funny.

Off work, I slept in a bit and met my fiance and mom for lunch at The Colonnade, a local establishment on the fifth floor of The Antique Mall. They serve what can only be described as the Platonic ideal of tomato soup. I'm serious, the absolute best soup I have ever had in my thirty years on this planet.

Next, I went out to my grandfathers place to finish up on the sidewalk project that would never end, and in the bracing wind all but completed that project. Afterwards, we went inside and he showed me his progress on the genealogy project he loves to work on. That old man has traced many of his ancestors, and therefore my ancestors, back to those who petitioned for pensions due to their service in the Revolutionary War. Many other branches he has traced back to arrivees from France and Ireland.

Grandma, despite her age-induced senility, was fairly lucid and in a chipper mood. If that dullness of the mental blade that is advanced old age affects behavior like alcohol, revealing the true nature of a person, then my grandmother must be one of the sweetest persons to ever walk this planet. I've always known that about her anyway, it's just nice as I get older to more appreciate it.

I drove back to the house, and as the early dusk of late November darkened the sky, I was able to get home soon enough to get out the circular saw and cut a few pieces of lumber for a table I am making. One of the problems with living in a shotgun is that space is limited and often awkward. I have little counter space in my kitchen, but I do have a very inconveniently located washer/dryer set. So I am making a table that will fit over the clothes dryer to create more space for cooking and storage.

To say that my carpentry skills are of a novice, would almost be an insult to novice carpenters. But I believe I can manage to make this thing sturdy, level, and by coating it with the red paint I used on my cabinets, blended nicely into the kitchen. If I pull this off, I will be bursting with sad extravagant amounts of he-man masculine pride. "I made this table.... (grunt) Look upon it woman... See where you may now prepare your pasta salads... (grunt) Come here now, so I may have my way with you..."

Not quite that bad, but close.

My dad called later that night, wishing me a happy birthday, cracking a joke that all the young radicals can no longer trust me. He also said that his thirties were maybe the best years of his life. I think they may be mine too.

Finally, that night was poker night with the boys. I went in with $40, and left four hours later with $32. That is how it usually goes. Someone will go home a big winner, someone will get busted, and everybody else leaves a few dollars ahead or behind.

I arrived home late, and found the birthday gift that the fiance and her parents bought for me. A Nintendo Wii. I was almost embarrassed, because they really shouldn't have spent that much money on me, but at the same time, yeah, I was excited. That's how my birthday beginning my 31st year, the year when all pretense to youth is over, ended. Me excited over a video game system.

It is a fun irony, and just because I am no longer young and have no excuses for immaturity, it does not mean that I am not allowed to download Contra and battle Red Falcon.

Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Start! You never forget.