Wednesday, August 24, 2016


I turned 42 today.

To be honest, I'm kind of past the point where I really think about the number. The last time I thought about it was when I turned thirty and I dreamed I was surrounded by teenagers chanting I wasn't a hepcat anymore.

To be fair, thirty was kind of 'What am I doing with my life?' In comparison, when I turned forty, I was married, had moved across the country and had an infant son. That was more of 'Wow! Look at what I've done with my life!'

But as someone who read his copies of Douglas Adams until they were literally in pieces as a teenager, I have to acknowledge forty-two.

Even folks who don't know Douglas Adams from Evelyn Waugh know that forty-two is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything.

I swear that in the annotated scripts to the radio plays, Adams stated that the whole point was that it didn't mean anything (although I bet it has come to mean something to a lot of people) 

But I am going to take this from it. Yeah, the number isn't important. What matters is what I've done with those years. And, while there have been some bumps and twists along the way, it just keeps getting better.

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