My Year of Turning 50

This has nothing to do with turning 50 years old, other than perhaps seeing something cool like the night launch of the space shuttle Endeavour brings me back to my youth when space seemed really cool. I took this photo today from the press area of the Kennedy Space Center.

If this is your year of turning 50 years old, then this is NOT your birthday. Why? Of course, because it’s Feb. 29, a leap year, and 1958 was not a leap year. Of course, this could be your 100th birthday — or, I guess you’re 25th birthday, and if so, congratulations. (Like, 2008, 1908 was a leap year). As it happens, my father was born in a leap year, 1920, so he would have been 88 (or 22!) if he were still alive.

(Wondering who was born in 1958? Here’s one list and another. Here’s a link to famous quotes of people born in 1958, including a bunch attributed to Calvin and Hobbes cartoonist Bill Watterson, including this gem: “It’s not denial. I’m just selective about the reality I accept.”

Score one for us 50-somethings. Apparently the character of Dr. Paul Weston of HBO’s In Treatment is a hottie. As played by 56-year-old actor Gabriel Byrne (shown in HBO photo from series), the psychotherapist is, in the words of one woman in today’s NY Times article “a hunk, totally. He’s hot” and, the article says, “His sympathetic response to patients ‘makes him even hotter.’ “

The show is on HBO five nights a week, with four nights of Weston doing a session with a patient (in one case, a couple), and one night of his own session with a colleague. I like the show — interesting format, excellent acting — but totally missed Byrne-the-boomer-sex-symbol angle, even though the Times says men are into him as well.

I will say I expected more women to be upset at Dr. Weston’s interest in a younger patient”Laura, a sullen 30-year-old anesthesiologist who chases Paul with a fervor bordering on the predatory,” as the article says. (Apparently, some of the women who are hot for Dr. Paul identify with Laura, the article says. Something to do with finding it attractive when men listen and care. Of course, as the headline says, “He Listens. He Cares. He Isn’t Real.”)

Something else turning 50 this year? The peace symbol, first used, according to an On the Media segment, on Feb. 21, 1958 at a British anti-nuclear march. (Photo from Flickr user Dragonoak, used under Creative Commons license.)… AARP came after me again today. Sigh…Guess what else is 50 years old? The Smurfs. NPR asks, “So are (Smurfs) having a mid-life crisis? Au contraire! They are planning a comeback. The original series soon will be out on DVD and a 3-D movie is expected next year.” Wonder if AARP will sign up Papa Smurf?…

A bit like my year of turning 50 years old and beyond…my life feels halfway over, but still some things to find on the dark side of the moon (dang, never saw Pink Floyd)…this is from tonight’s lunar eclipse.

My colleague Matt Simantov made a set of Valentine’s Day e-cards to send to those you love — and those you don’t. The one here reminds me of my mother, who hated cut flowers since she felt it was killing something live. I’ve always used that as an excuse…I mean reason…not to buy flowers. I’m sure this would be a funny thing to create for someone turning 50 birthday party. I’ll put Matt right on it! You can see the other Valentine’s ones on OrlandoSentinel.com.

AARP sent me another solicitation on Friday. Hey, AARP, it’s not you, it’s me. Leave me alone…OK, I’ll be honest, I would love the hotel discount and fantasize that I’d be carded each time I try to claim the AARP discount…NY Times has an article today on Eons, the baby boomer site you used to not be able to join until turning 50 years old. It recently began allowing younger people to join. Wonder how that will work out for them? The article says many users aren’t happy about it — kind of the same way those young people felt when we boomers flooded Facebook…speaking of Facebook, I need more friends…Same goes for Eons, which I don’t remember joining, but have a profile under JCold23…Question: As Groucho might have asked, do I want to be a member of any club that would have me as a member?….I enjoy the NY Times Sunday feature Modern Love, except today’s, titled “A Valley of Misery Between Peaks of Joy,” looks at research that basically says that in our year of turning 50, we are at the bottom of a U-shaped Joy Ride — our peaks are in our 20s and 70s-plus. Great…This is a gratuitous link to my colleague Kris Hey’s blog, because she is worried it will be killed without more traffic. Click and Help Yourself (and Kris).

Another scary thing about turning 50 years old — now I find out my heart will inevitably and, as the article says, inexplicably strink — something researchers are calling the “age 50 effect.”

Note to researchers: You need to be more creative with your names. How about “The Reverse Grinch Effect” — your heart strinks three sizes instead of growing.

Or maybe “Old Fart Heart.” Now that’s catchy.

I am still getting used to my year of turning 50 years old. Today, an ad on the back of the New York Times Week in Review says “Hallmark sold 85,000 ‘Happy 100th Birthday!’ cards last year.” (It’s an add for retirement planning.) Of course, estimates are there are about 40,000 to 50,000 centenarians in the United States. I couldn’t find a stat on how many turned 100 last year. Still, it’s a daunting idea — imaging living to 100. I’d have to live to 2057. Of course, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I’m only living until I’m 89. Of course, I’m not sure I have enough cash to make it to 69, much less 89 or 100!

My fortune cookie last night said, “Next time, order the shrimp.” Funny but it was true. I wonder if there is something for a turning 50 roast or toast in fortune cookies like this. I found some funny ones here, including “Your plants hate you,” which is also true for me, and “Some fortune cookies contain no fortunes,” which, cosmically, also is true.

Here’s another I like, and might be good for turning 50 years old: “What have you done with your life?”

(PS: Yes, I’ve heard the joke about adding “in bed” to end of fortunes, but that joke’s even older than I am…)