Happy birthday to me.
The big three-five.
Every year around my birthday, I do a little run-down of the last year. This year was different. I’ve been running down the last 7 half decades. Or three and a half decades. Or 100011 years in binary. Anyway, here’s a summation of the last 35 years of me, broken down into every 5 years.1970, Age 0 – Don’t remember much about this one. Must have been during one of my blackouts. No, wait, Jim Morrison said that. Gasoline was thirty six cents a gallon.
1975, Age 5 – Trevor and I ruled the sandbox! I don’t remember much about Trevor, he was the red headed bully at Ludington primary school, where I went to kindergarten. For some reason, he was the bully, and he liked me. This was the last time a bully and I got along. The World Football League folded on this day. It lasted both seasons.
1980, Age 10 – St. Anthony of Padua grade school. Nuns everywhere. So many penguins around that Morgan Freeman should have been narrating. Let’s see, I’m ten. I was pretty much hardcore into Lego’s at this point. Iran and Iraq were not. They went to a full scare war on this day. Oh, and so did I and Chris Maynard.
1985 – Age 15 – The following 15 years should be referred to as “A Series of Unfortunate, Dumbfounding, and Compelling Stupid Events.” In two months I will get into my first car accident, which I caused. I still have a few scars. I’m a sophomore at Pius XI High School. My best friends are twin brothers Jim and Joe. Farm Aid happens on this day. My sister, actively pursuing a rewarding career in cosmetology, experiments with my hair, hilarity ensues.
1990 – Age 20 – College and The Rumplemintz Nightmare. Dateline, Whitewater, Wisconsin. I drive up to Whitewater with my friend Jim. We meet at Tammy’s place. Tammy gives me a bottle of Rumplemintz. Jim gives me a gift of a Playboy magazine and a blow-up doll, who we promptly dress and sit her upright in the passenger seat of my VW Bus. We wonder where we can get some helium, and then realize that This Is Not A Good Idea. That was the last time I make that decision all night. Beer. Quarters. Shots. A viewing of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, to which I did shots of the aforementioned peppermint schnapps each time the word “excellent” was mentioned. I managed to actually put hash marks on my hand each time I did a shot. Seventeen, in case you were wondering.
*Scene missing*
Jason arrives.
*Scene missing*
Need to get film for camera. 35mm SLR, 400 speed, 24 exposure. Crab walked down to Sentry. Should have been thrown in the drunk tank, but this is Whitewater. They don’t throw people in drunk tanks. They throw them in sober tanks, called bars, that have dime taps.
*Scene missing*
Passed out in back of VW, manage to pull open the sliding door and hey! There’s lunch again!
*Scene missing*
That was a rough one. Ask Jason about the missing scenes. I think he may have been torturing me. It is also Bilbo Baggin’s 700th birthday.
1995 – Age 25 – Big Dave will never forget this one. There are multiple versions of this story. Short version: went to dinner at what was the Clock Steakhouse (now Mo’s: A Place for Steaks). Had Filet Mignon, medium rare, shared bottle of merlot, went to Champion’s Pub, had Riverwest Stein, had after bar with Big Dave, Danny boy, and the brothers Pritchett. Had too much to drink at this point. I scrambled to the wastebasket, but Dave and Dan were in my way. They took the brunt of the dinner exodus. Apparently, I also had my trousers around my ankles at the time. Ask Big Dave. His story is better, but then again, they always are.
I am back in college and also employed at my first job in the computer industry. Braveheart, Se7en, The Usual Suspects and Showgirls are in movie theaters.
2000 – Age 30 – The beginning of the end. It’s been half my life since this ride of unfortunate events has started, and I’m closing those chapters. I’m single again. It’s Friday night, and that means my usual dinner alone, then meeting up with the gang. I eat, I meet, and I move my feet. That means I go out with my usual crowd and we end up at a bar or a club, and I go home alone. I even had offers that night, very tempting ones, but I decide to go it alone. I feel a sense of “grow the hell up” dawning on me. It’s not like I’m not doing well, rather the opposite. I’ve got a good job, a decent apartment all to myself, my first new car, and a promising future.
But I’m not 23 any more. I don’t need to be trolling the bars every night. I’m thirty years old and things are different now. It’s different, and that’s all I can say about it.
Today, September 22, 2005. I’m 35.
Wow. You know, life is really good to me right now. Great everything. Tonight, I’m going to indulge in a few favorites. Pizza, maybe a movie at home, possibly some WoW, with my lovely wife, great dog, and demented cats by my side. To me, it sounds absolutely perfect.

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