I am 50 today.
Honestly, I am not sure that I like the idea of the number fifty so much.
What does a number really mean at the end of any one life?
I’ve known people who live short lives to the fullest measure taking pleasure instead of waiting for it to come find them and others who have wasted worrying about the growing number of their years, doing nothing but waiting to die. When my time ends, I hope the memories I leave people who love me will reflect upon many more important things than the number of years I walked on this earth.
While feeling all nostalgic and $h*t (you know I can’t stay maudlin and serious very long) I decided to share this poem. I printed and framed it as a gift to my son when he turned eighteen. I told him this as good of an example that I have ever seen to use as your measuring stick of accountability for life.
But truly, this should apply to all of us, man and woman alike when we take accounting of ourselves.
BY RUDYARD KIPLIN
(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)