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OLD MAN GIBBONS

It’s official. I’m old.

Yes, sprightly young Mike Gibbons has crossed the threshold. I am practically a senior citizen. I am 30.

I don’t really know how this happened. Just a short while ago, I was in a fraternity in college, trying to convince a police officer that the large sign we were carrying at 2 am was being taken for repairs. Next thing I know, I’m married, have a kid, a mortgage, and never sleep past 7:30 am.

Who are you, and what have you done with Mike?

OK, truth be told, I don’t really feel that old. But everyone keeps suggesting that I should feel old and making clever remarks about all of my soon forthcoming ailments. Well, the joke’s on them, because my body has felt like that of a 140-year-old since high school. HA! Me and my barely-functioning knees scoff at you and your joke! Well, we don’t scoff too hard, because we get a little pull in our side if we’re not careful.

But as I look at where my life is now, and where I thought it would be at this point when I was younger, I have to say, it is nowhere near where I thought it would be. But no one’s life is like that.

When you’re a teen-ager, if you were to say, “When I’m 30, I want to have a mortgage, a nice family, a dependable car, and neighbors from whom you can readily borrow tools and/or food products,” you would be tied to a tree and pelted with rotten plums. Or at least you should be, because 16-year-olds should dream of fame, fortune, and perhaps owning Knight Rider (assuming you were born in 1972). Or, at the very least, teens should NOT dream of life in boring suburbia. Don’t get me wrong – I wouldn’t change a thing with my life. Boring is good, so far as I’m concerned. I think my life is rock solid and fantastic. But any teen-ager who would want to trade spots with me needs to address some serious issues, the main one being why he wouldn’t want Knight Rider. Sure, it was cheesy 1980s TV, but it was a talking car, man!

So my life is not where I thought it would be 15 years ago, or even five years ago. But I am really glad. I look back at the different milestones of my life, and where I thought I’d be, and I’m really glad those didn’t play out the way I first envisioned. For example:

AGE 5: Thirty was the age of my parents, and possibly my grandparents, so I needn’t worry about reaching that age. REALITY: Parents always stay at a comfortable, unreachable age for their children, so I will never, ever be the age of my parents. Convenient how that works.

AGE 10: Baseball star. Gonna be bigger than Dale Murphy. REALITY: Had I taken up baseball in this era, I would have had to roid up, creating what looked like the lovechild of Anthony Michael Hall and Lou Ferrigno, and quite frankly, no one would want to see that.

AGE 15: Just got my license. Ready to strike out on the open road. REALITY: I wasn’t allowed to drive after dark, and I had to cruise around in my mother’s 1984 Grand Marquis, so all road-trips would be very brief and exceptionally uncool.

AGE 17: Heading into college. Pretty sure this was as good as life could ever get. Planned to own a bar. Or perhaps a restaurant. No, wait, I know, I’ll be a biologist. No, wait, a doctor. Hang on – racecar driver. REALITY: Woke up with a lot of headaches.

AGE 21: Had decided on becoming a high-powered advertising executive. REALITY: Realized high-powered advertising executives lived in New York City. Reminded myself that I do not like (a) cold weather (b) big cities or (c) the north in general.

AGE 25: Having gotten married, decided to become that cool couple who does lots of fun things and parties all over the world, because, hey, we’re double income, no kids, and we have no worries in the world. REALITY: My wife and I were homebodies, and we stayed home watching movies, or occasionally going to a local establishment with friends.

AGE 27: OK, maybe we really should start traveling. REALITY: Hope you enjoyed that globetrotting world tour, hotshot, because baby makes three.

AGE 30: So this is where we are. Hey, you know what? This ain’t so bad. In fact, I have to say it pretty much trumps all of the other stages of my life. I mean, I have my own Mini Me, I have a great wife, and a wonderful home. What more could a guy want? Except for a talking car, of course.