The big 4-0

I’m 40 years old today! Well, yesterday. Er...the day before yesterday. Wow, the big 4–0. I don’t feel 40. I still feel 18. Then again, I don’t know what 40 is suppose to feel like anyway. I suppose all 40 year olds may be running around still feeling like 18 year olds but trying to fake it and pretend to be the 40 year old adults they remember from their childhood.

(and those 40 year olds may have been running around faking it, acting like the 40 year olds they remembered from their childhoods, and so on and so on, all the way back to our ape days)

_{Me and my youngest. His brother is too hyper to sit still for a photo lately, but oh well. I’ll get him next time.}

I wouldn’t even know I was 40 today—er, the day before yesterday—except people keep reminding me of it. For the longest time, during my 20s and early 30s, I honestly had to sit and think for a few minutes when people asked me how old I was. Let’s see… born in 78, subtract, carry the one—ah, I am ___ years old. That wasn’t me being funny or denying age, it was me simply not caring and consequently never remembering.

All that changed last year. Suddenly everyone I met, seemingly even total strangers, took pleasure in pointing out that I was almost 40. Diabolical pleasure, as the common idea has been and is that I should be upset at being “old”. Am I? TV and movies certainly tells me I should be. Pop culture is filled with images of men not being able to handle becoming some older age and completely freaking out.

Me? I don’t get it. I don’t feel that way. I feel the same as I always have, and the number doesn’t really matter to me. I still wonder if it might be some kind of cosmic joke and if I might still really be a teenager. But no anger. Curiosity and amazement, mainly.

So, anyway, I now can recall my age much easier than in the past. Because everyone keeps reminding me of it. And I still don’t really care. 40 outside, 18 inside, and neither one really matters too much. But at the same time, I am really kind of blown away by this fact. I remember when my dad hit 40. I was 10 at the time. And now it’s my turn.

I am curious to see what happens next! Based on my experience of these 40 years, I can imagine I will be a man of 90 before I know it, saying much the same thing, being amazed it has all gone so fast, still feeling like a kid inside—at that point maybe also wondering why my body is no longer working. Luckily I don’t have to deal with that one yet.

Anyway. Hope you enjoyed this little birthday ramble. If I’m getting older I need to learn how to act the part after all, rambling on about nothing in particular and telling random stories. Hmm… I should have told a random story in this post. Will have to work on that in the future. ;)

Here’s to the next 40 years. (hope Steemit and crypto will be around for at least a few of those)

	David LaSpina is an American photographer lost in Japan, trying to capture the beauty of this country one photo at a time. More?