The Old and The Restful

Lately, I can’t help but feel a bit older. You know when you’ve signed the lease for your first apartment that you’re not exactly a little kid anymore. You also know when you find that one gray hair that persists no matter how many times you decide to pluck it that the effects of aging have started to get to you. Similarly, when you realize that short hair looks much better than your long “rebellious” hair of your early teenage years may be a sign of maturity. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the fact that your mother has bought a Yankees jersey for your beer to keep it cold.

Whatever it is, everyone seems to reach a point in their life where they know that aren’t exactly going to be heading back to the monkey bars or pretending to be an astronaut any time soon. It’s possible that this realization has made it so many of you want to hide under the covers of your bed, curl up, and watch marathons of your favorite cartoon . Trust me, I understand. However, this is a change that should be embraced rather than feared.

Gone are the days when I find myself asked to walk the dogs at night, only to stay out with them for a brief second because the answer to that old school Nickelodeon Show “Are you afraid of the dark” for me was a resounding yes. It’s possible that danger still lurks in the dark. I mean, just the other night I ran into a rabbit that looked like it may have been the deranged bunny of Monty Python fame.Fearsome bunny rabbits aside, now that I’m older and have survived countless encounters with the terrible dark, it’s a lot easier to tell myself I survived the last couple times so why wouldn’t I this time?

Most recently, I took a train home from Boston by myself. The fact that I managed to get on the right train must have been some form of miracle, judging by the countless number of times my mom felt the need to explain to me where I needed to be .To be fair, I had proven myself a terrible listener in the past and probably deserved the treatment she was giving me. As many people before me have come to realize just because you know your parents are probably right to repeatedly give you instructions, it doesn’t make it any easier to listen to.

On the train, a chatty middle-aged woman who clearly forgot to buy one of the great books they had on selection at Back Bay station started asking me what I was doing on my laptop. I replied by telling her I was writing, which seemed to fascinate her infinitely. She asked me if I was a well known writer, clearly missing the fact by my looks that I was more likely to be a student than a well known writer. I decided to amuse myself and told her, “It’s not surprising you wouldn’t know who I am. I mean I’m only a New York Times best selling author but no one really reads the about the author page do they?”.

She looked half skeptical but turned to the old couple sitting behind the two of us and asked, “This guy says he’s a best selling author. Do you recognize him?”. The couple took one look at me, mouthed what I could only imagine is are you serious, but then turned to her and said, “Oh yes of course. He’s rather famous”. Maybe getting old doesn’t have to be all bad, at the very least this couple proved that while I will get older I may still retain my sense of humor.


Until next time,

I’m just your friendly “best selling author” neighborhood Bloggerman