525,600 Minutes

Friday was the 30th anniversary of the first day of humanity’s golden age (and the 9th anniversary of the first time I saw Tommy Boy – see last post), or as everyone else calls it, my birthday. It was a big day here in Ziggybackrideland. Okay, you got me. There’s no such place as Ziggybackrideland, but it was a big day. Okay?

I spent the morning working on a Habitat for Humanity house that is being coordinated by a kid I know on the occasion of his Bar Mitzvah. It was a gorgeous Memphis morning and a fun way to spend part of the day. I worked on the roof. (I would like to apologize now to the soon-to-be owners/inhabiters of the house for any leaks. I was assured that gaps would be filled in with tar during a later stage of roofing.) Later, there was dinner with the family, and then out to a new bar right near my house where I guess I almost got in a fight.

I was sitting, talking to a friend when I noticed (I could partly hear and could wholly lipread) a guy near me – a guy whom I do not know and to whom I have absolutely no connection - speaking ill of me. Then, of course, I had to glance back a couple of times to make sure I was right and that my increased age hadn’t brought with it an acute paranoia. Turns out I was right. He came over to the table and asked me quite indignantly, “Do you have a staring problem?” I indicated that I was not aware of one. Perturbed at my rebuff of his initial hypothesis, he irritably asked, “Are you talking about other people?” Again, I had to politely let him down as I let him know that, in fact, I was not. He then advised me to “Keep to myself,” adding a derisive term that starts with an 'f', ends with a 't', and has an 'aggo' in the middle and walked back to his friends, proud, I’m sure, of a job well done. He was quite the peace keeper. He did, however, check back several times to make sure that I did not eventually succumb to the much feared staring problem. It was very exciting. Next time, I will use my kara-tay (pronounced as Ross Geller would) and whip his sorry ass. No. No, I probably won’t.

In all seriousness, the birthday was a great chance to reflect on the year that has ended and gaze forward at the one now beginning. It’s like Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur - the approaching Jewish holidays that are all about renewal and introspection - had come early for me! I looked back at the joys and upsets, successes and failures, laughs, experiences, friends, changes, efforts, tragedies, surprises, romances, excitements, lessons…of the last year, and forward at all the hope for and uncertainty of the next one. It is truly amazing to take stock of the individual moments of life. I hope and trust that this new year will be just as full of them and that I will spend the year striving for perfect living. Not perfect in terms of wins and losses, successes and failures, or rights and wrongs, but perfect in the only way I believe we can achieve it – by living so that, upon looking back, we have no reason for regret. Good luck to all of us for a perfect year!

* The title of this post is borrowed from the famous song from the musical Rent, soon to hit the big screen as a motion picture event. I have seen Rent and I’m not embarrassed to admit, though it will shock some of you, that I did not like it. I felt absolutely no sympathy for the characters who, time after time, make stupid, harmful decisions and then are bummed when things don’t turn out well. They’re like, “Yes, we’re promiscuous and use drugs, but I don’t see why we should have AIDS and trouble finding jobs. I mean really!” No, I mean really.

** In answer to the “Whadja get?” question, I got an iPod. It’s really cool! Now I can take The University of Texas Longhorn Band with me any where I go! Jealous? That’s right, suckerz.