June 12, 2005

The Big Three-Oh


      “Age ain’t nothin’ but a number.” That’s how the saying goes, right? Or is that just something younger people say to make older people feel better? Or something older people say to make themselves feel better? The fact is, age is more than a number. Age is experience. To some extent. Age is maturity...to a different extent.
      Given the same amount of time, no two people (persons?) will ever do exactly the same things in the same order, have the same experiences, meet the same people, achieve the same results, and come out at the end with exactly the same impression of the same events. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the laws of the universe; The Great Law Of Random Events Affecting Different Persons Randomly in Different Ways. Or something to that affect. And if it’s not, then it should be.
      With that in mind, I decided to look back at the past ten formative years of my own unique life and what has led me to where I am today. Perhaps more for me than for you, but come along anyway.

Age 20 - Changed major course of study from Photography to Graphic Design.

Age 21 – Legal drinking age. University wins National College Basketball title. Streak naked across campus with friends in celebration (no relation to legal drinking age).

Age 22 – Move off Campus. Buy Motorcycle.

Age 23 – Graduate University. Trick Mom, Dad, Sister, and Uncle into skydiving the next day. Move back to L.A. from Arizona. Motorcycle stolen. One hour commute to and from work. I hate traffic.

Age 24 – Change jobs. 14 minute commute. Get a glimpse of road ahead: Work, commute, marriage, commute, work, kids, commute, debt, work, retire, grandkids, death. Not attracted to that yet. Volunteer at local Playhouse Theater as sound designer. Millennium New Years in New Orleans. Bush elected president.

Age 25 – Go to work in Cancun, Mexico at Club Med as a set designer. Joke about staying out of the country until Bush is out of office. Travel to Switzerland to meet Dad where he is on business. Spend next 15 months traveling through Europe.

Age 26 – Ran with the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain. Began writing these update letters. In Italy the day the World changed – Sept. 11, 2001.

Age 27 – Birthday in Ireland while working (maybe) in Irish Pub (what the Irish call a “pub”). I have entered what an ex-girlfriend refers to as “The Dark Side of 30.”

Age 28 - Return home via New York City. Visit World Trade Center crater. Back to old job with 1 hour commute. Begin secretly dating co-worker. Take one-month Road trip to Canada. Get new job with 45 minute commute. I really hate traffic. Take girlfriend and Dad’s truck camping and snowboarding as often as possible.

Age 29 – More camping on weekends. Quit job, fly to Australia. Travel East Coast, getting SCUBA diving license along the way. Fly to New Zealand three months later. Fly to Fiji two months after that, allowing me to fly back to New Zealand for three more months.
Which brings us up to date. Nearly.
      There are a few birthdays which people seem to feel are more important than others. Age 1, for example. Sort of a milestone, although I expect it’s a bigger deal for the parents than the child. Age 10, you’re into double digits, never to look back again. 13, ooh! I’m a Teenager! Hello Acne. Age 16, independence comes with a driver’s license. Age 18, Rock the Vote, Dodge the Draft, a legal Adult. OK, so that one deserves a party. Next is 21. In America at least, 21 is the legal drinking age. Of course friends are going to use your birthday as an excuse to have a party. 25? A quarter of a century! But that really only matters if you expect to live to 100 (which, by the way, I do). But after that, what? The legitimate celebrations begin to drift farther apart until they settle onto the ten year cycle. 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, etc,.
      Turing 30 is a big deal. It’s a milestone. Next mile marker, 10 years down the road. However, most people my age don’t want to turn 30. Don’t like it. 30 is “Old.” The difference between 29 and 30 isn’t much. We look the same. We act the same. We mostly feel the same inside. But we’re no longer in our 20’s. And that’s a big deal, whether you’re for it or against it. It’s 10 years worth of a big deal. But turning 30 isn’t as much about going from 29-30, as it is about going from your 20's to your 30's. No longer able to claim 20-something status, for the next ten years I’m a 30-something. And just when I grow to accept that and become comfortable saying it, I'll be a (*gulp*) 40-something. And then I'll be old for real!
      For that reason, part of me was happy to be on my own for my 30th birthday in New Zealand, far away from family and friends. I was quite content to just let the day drift on by without even a mention to whoever I might meet that day wherever I might be.
      But as I sat around trying to decide what to do with my remaining time in New Zealand, it was brought to my attention that, as my birthday is in June, and as June is a Summer (or at least late Spring) month in the Northern Hemisphere, and as the Northern Hemisphere is where I’m from, I had probably never been snowboarding on my birthday. And here I was, deep in the Southern Hemisphere with winter (and the ski season) fast approaching. When I was in Switzerland, I left two weeks before the start of the ski season. I wasn’t going to repeat that mistake.
      I called my friend Dirk, an Englishman who I had met in the North Island, and who now lives and works down in the southern area of the South Island in the town of Wanaka, conveniently close to a few ski hills.
I arrived in Wanaka on Friday the 10th of June. Dirk and I went out for drinks that night where I met a few of his friends from various parts of the world who were “here for the season.” Wanaka’s population quadruples in size from summer to winter.
      The next night, we were back at the same pub, and at 5 seconds to midnight, I pointed my digital camera at the wall clock and made a video clip of my 20’s ticking away. It was now June 12th, and I was 30. But then I got to thinking, was I really 30? I had crossed the International Dateline when I flew into Australia. It was only June 11th where I was born. I had only been alive for one day short of 30 years! But I decided not to think about that too much, and instead accepted the respectful handshakes of the friends I had made the night before as they came up to me one by one to wish me a ‘Happy Birthday’ throughout the evening. For the rest of the night, Dirk and I teamed up to dominate the pool table, eventually retiring unbeaten.
      Since Wanaka’s local mountains would not open for another week, Dirk and I had to drive over the pass to Queenstown for my day of snow play. The heater in his car decided not to work, and we froze our toes the whole way there. Just because there’s no snow on the local mountains doesn’t mean it isn’t cold.
      I am happy to report that turning 30 does not necessarily mean that all those youthful endeavors I had come to enjoy over the years must be foregone. I was still able to get down the mountain on a snowboard in the same form I always have. And I’m quite sure I’ll still be able to strap on my Rollerblades when I get home and keep myself upright. And if I would practice more, I might still be able to get around on my skateboard, but that has nothing to do with my age.
      Being the second day of the season, the snow wasn't as good as it could have been. There were only two chairlifts open, and about three or four crowded runs. But it was snow never the less, and I had rented a top notch board that had edges that carved through the icy bits under the powder like Michelle Qwan's ice skates. Dirk and I had a fabulous time, and neither one of us fell or twisted or broke anything. Not even once. So Happy Birthday to Me.
      With my Twenties behind me, I'm looking ahead to the next ten years. It's dangerous to look too far ahead, as one may get overwhelmed. But I'm optomistic, to say the least. The past ten years have certainly been better then the ten before that. And the second half of the Twenties were better than the first half. So here's to the future I say. Bring it on! Feed me the knowledge. Expose me to the experiences. Give me obstacles to conquer. Whether the glass is half empty or half full, I say TOP OFF MY PINT, dammit!
      So, before this letter gets too much more beyond boring, I’m going to end it here. Thanks Dirk for putting me up in Wanaka. Snowboarding in June, that’s just cool...at any age.
"Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving
safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways,
thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming 'Wow - what a ride!'"
~
Peter Sage
Props to my Peeps, and Peace on the Mothership
Chris 'Grandpa' Dwan