I’m 48 today AND it’s my 30th class reunion; way to rub it in, God

The kind of excitement my birthday is generating.

The kind of excitement my birthday is generating.

This morning, after unpinning my legs from under our Labrador, I pulled back the covers and rolled out of bed, bringing my feet to the floor for the first time as a 48-year-old.

So far, so good, I thought, then stretched, twisted and stood before sliding into my pants. I’ve always told myself, when I have to start sitting down to put my pants on, THAT’S when I’ll know I’m getting old. But this morning I realized that wasn’t entirely true: It’ll start long before that, when I can no longer get out from under the dog.

Naturally, the first thing my son asked me this morning is if I felt a year older. I told him I didn’t, but that I was starting to forget little things, like including his name in my will. And I might’ve accidentally worn his underwear while jogging yesterday. Plus, I may have posted a Justin Bieber link to his Facebook instead of his sister’s. But other than those minor memory glitches, I hadn’t noticed any real difference in becoming a year older.

What I didn’t tell him, mostly because he had run off in a panic to check his Facebook and underwear drawer, was one of the reasons I never seem to “feel my age.” When I began blogging three years ago as part of a promise to myself to “become more savvy about the Internets” before my 46th birthday, my intention was merely to establish my own little corner in cyberspace; a place where I could explore my writing beyond the newspaper; a place that would allow me to figure out this whole blogging thing; a place where I could appear to be working without my editor knowing I was goofing off.

I found all of those things, of course, but I also found something I hadn’t anticipated: All of you.

Whenever I push the “post” button, it’s like meeting up with friends. Usually we laugh, but sometimes we don’t. Regardless, there is an acceptance and exchange that always leaves me either smiling, laughing or nodding my head in silent appreciation. Sometimes all three, depending on how much I may have had to drink. You allow me to share parts of myself that stem from the roots of my creativity β€” a place that many are forced to relinquish along with their youthful perspective.

Because of you, they’ll have to pull my youth from my cold, dead fingers. And if they do pull my finger… well, I think you know what’ll happen.

The fact is, I have no reason to believe I’ll be feeling old anytime soon. At least not until tonight, when someone at my 30th high school reunion shows up wearing parachute pants and has to be escorted home after becoming numb from the waist down.

But hey, thanks to all of you, at least I can say I put them on while standing up.

Truly, my thanks to all of you β€” Every Single One.

(Ned Hickson is a syndicated columnist with News Media Corporation. His first book, Humor at the Speed of Life, is available from Port Hole Publications, Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble.)

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72 thoughts on “I’m 48 today AND it’s my 30th class reunion; way to rub it in, God

  1. Well, you did it again – you forced me to twirl around another one of your posts while flinging pom-poms left and right. I even threw on one of those short skirts and high socks, given the occasion.

    All those wonderful words about your readers right back at ya. You’ve been, and are, a really wonderful blogging friend too. Happy Birthday, Ned,

    • I so appreciate that, Robyn. I know you don’t throw on a shirt skirt and high socks for just anyone!

      Wait β€” you don’t, right…?

      Thanks so much for all your wonderful support and thoughtfulness, but mostly for the writing talent and honesty you share with the rest of the blogosphere, Robyn. With or without pom-poms, you’re a gift.

      But the pom-poms are a nice touch, I’m just sayin’… πŸ˜‰

  2. Happy Birthday, Young Ned! Long may you keep that sense of humor, because I promise you, it is what will preserve your youthful outlook more than anything else. There’s not enough Botox in the world to keep you as young as laughing every day will! Now get busy and celebrate! (PS…I went to my 30th reunion, too…it was rather surprising. Someone had deviously replaced every single student I once knew with some sort of elderly doppelganger! It’s true! I know for sure, because I damn well didn’t attend high school with any of those old farts! πŸ˜€ )

    • Laughter is definitely part of my master plan to remain youthful! BwaHaHaHaHa! *wrings hands together*

      By the way, I think some of those same people will probably be showing up at MY reunion tonight! I’ll let you know if it’s a conspiracy πŸ˜‰

  3. Happy Birthday Ned and thanks for such kind words. It’s no surprise that you have a loyal following and I expect that to continue long after you’ve become permanently lodged under the lab.
    Have a great day and a very happy birthday!
    Psst: I wanna borrow Robin’s pom poms when she’s done πŸ™‚

  4. In addition to getting out from under your lab each morning I reckon you’ll be right if you keep sliding down those poles and surviving the occasional face plant. A heartfelt thanks back to you for all the laughs. Many happy, laughy returns of the day.

  5. Look–both Frank Gifford and his wine-weary drunk wife, Kathie Lee, have birthdays today and they’re BOTH older than you. And so is Madonna–56. Gross. At least you’re not 56. Timothy Hutton, Steve Carrell, Angela Bassett–all have birthdays today, and they only wish they were still 48. So enjoy your 40s, old firefighting man with good hair.

  6. Happy birthday, Ned! I hope your year as a 48 year old is splendid and brings many HILARIOUS blog posts! Having said that, I truly feel your pain. This month I turn 23 and have my five year school reunion. I have a single grey hair sprouting from my head, and my eyes show subtle signs of crow’s feet. God help us.

  7. and we’ll keep you young because you’ll be so busy trying to fight off our spam/comments on the interwebs you won’t have time to get old. happy birthday, ned and thanks for not wearing my underwear.

  8. You’re older than me, Putz?
    Now I don’t feel so bad about running my entire summer – and my family’s finances – off the rails.
    Happy Birthday, you brilliantly twisted Renaissance Man, you.

    (But seriously, I admire your drive, courage, humility and talent. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll sic Robyn Lawson on you.)

  9. Many happy returns. I am really grateful I stumbled upon your blog. Because now I am expecting a super hilarious high school reunion post. I know a young guy like you can take that kind of pressure. πŸ˜‰
    I’ll be waiting. . . . .
    Stephanie

  10. Congratulations and thanks for the warm words! I’m glad to hear you’re getting something out of your blog too and that it’s not just me laughing all the time;)

    Believe it or not, but 48 is actually my own personal lucky number, the reasons of which will have me ending up at a psych ward should I ever reveal them, so I’ll just say 48 is my lucky number. 48 and 18 to be precise. And 78 too, so here’s to me reading about your 60th class reunion 30 years from now!

  11. Your blog appeared under the section ”you may like” and seems wordpress knows my taste! I love the post with the thoughts about being a year older! More than happy to follow!

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