365 Days Is Like a Heart Beat

Tomorrow when I awaken there's a strong possibility three numbers will be staring me in the face: 666, 99 or 66. It all depends on my attitude toward life. Since I'm about to endure another birthday I could either feel like hell or aged beyond belief or just accept the fact that another year has flown by and I'm 66.
It seems to me that 65 was one of those celebratory years. Twenty-nine was that way as was thirty. For me, thirty-five was significant since that's considered middle aged. Everybody dreads forty. Not me. I thought that maybe, just maybe, when I turned that age I might have matured into adulthood. In retrospect I didn't.
As I look back the fiftieth birthday and what occurred in the following ten years was the very best life has to offer; kids are gone, there's a little extra cash and the body is still limber enough to genuflect at Mass without having to have help in getting back up. I haven't given sixty-six a whole lot of thought. I think it's because it's all downhill from here. Instead of reflecting on birthdays I've been thinking about growing up and the fears I faced and how they've actually turned out to be irrelevant. Between the ages of five and ten my greatest fear was whether or not I'd be able to watch Capt. Kangaroo, Tom Terrific and Bullwinkle for the rest of my life or would I grow tired of cartoons. "How could anyone in their right mind not like cartoons", I'd ask myself.
From ten to fifteen, since sports was the be all end all my only thought was would I make the team or be on the Little League and Babe Ruth All-Star teams. The All-Star team was an ultra big deal especially when one came from Boone, Iowa. I once had a man tell me I might be the best Little Leaguer to ever come out of the town. Isn't that something special to hang my hat on?
In high school my desire to be a good student, for some reason, went flying out the door. I'd lost the 'get good grades' fear I had in my first eight years at Sacred Heart. In high school I earned the normal B's and C's with a smattering of D's and A's. Once, I received an F in Mr. Saunders geometry class. My report card showed the letter in red. So I took a red pen and made it a B. I bought myself nine weeks of glory before the next card came out. High school fears? Does anyone in their right mind have them? You didn't have to worry about a girlfriend because even before you asked a girl on a date you've peppered her friends with questions. "Does she like me'? "Will she go to the Prom with me"? "I like her". "Are you sure she likes me"? By the time you do get the courage to call her on the phone it's almost like you've been going steady for two months. Nobody would take a chance on asking a girl out if you weren't sure she liked you.
On to college. Most of you who came out of high school and did go to college had the normal fears. Will I do well? What about grad school? All of that stuff that prepares a certain scholar for the future. Do you know what my greatest fear was in college? I was extremely fearful there was going to be a party going on that I didn't know about(I borrowed this line because it's funny). There was a pub across the street from Coe College called the East Side Maid-Rite. When I left school in '68 the owners placed a plaque over the bathroom toilet and it read: MJ Hawkeye, Most Career Pukes, 1965-68.
Then after I matriculated(nice word for a Phy. Ed. Major) I found a job, got married, raised children and placed myself into the daily humdrum of a career. Those thirty-nine years flew by faster than a sparrow flitting from one apple tree to another.
This brings me to today. I have no fears. Every once in awhile I'll think about death and dying and guess what? It's not on my radar. It's a part of life and I'm ready for it. A couple of months ago I had a biopsy. I acted like I was fearful but in reality I told myself, "If it is, it is". It wasn't. I read an article in the UK Daily last week about scientists who have invented a pill that makes mice stop aging. That would be a good pill to use when I was twenty-five. Can you imagine being eighty, then taking a non-aging pill. I'd be in a wheel chair with my head on my chest and spittle from my broth and crackers running down my cheek---for possibly two hundred years. If I could still hear, which I can hardly do today, my kids would come visit and ask the question thinking I was stone deaf; "WHAT'RE WE GOING TO DO WITH GRANDPA"? Not a good way to be.
Anyway, happy birthday to me. I'll celebrate with Lizzie. We might even go to one of those early bird specials they have in Florida and have a slice or two of key lime pie.