Ever since I first got my license in January 1989, each 'renewal' - mandated by the State of Wisconsin every eight years - has felt like a passage, an exit off one stage of my life, onto another. I've kept all of them, all the little plastic cards that not only declare I'm qualified to operate a motor vehicle, but over time have allowed me to live my life - to buy cigarettes (back when I did so), buy alcohol, rent cars, rent movies, apply for jobs, check into hotels, check out books, deposit checks, step onto planes...to prove at a moment's notice, that I am me, should any individual of even the lowest level of authority think to ask (and all that that implies). Unfortunately I don't have them all with me, so can't display them with this post. Too bad. It'd be kind of trippy to see my transformation from scrawny, acne-ridden teenager to not-so-scrawny but still occasionally acne ridden adult, who at least can hide behind stubble when blemishes attack.
Things have changed since the last time I renewed. They don't process your license on site anymore. They give you a temporary slip of paper to provide as requested, and your new license arrives by mail within a week, from St. Louis, or Wichita, or somewhere. This surprises me, a little. It's hard to believe in this day and age that it is more efficient, or cost saving, to outsource production, and out-of-state no less, but I can say (at least) that it arrived within 7 business days, as promised. No hassle.
And I have to admit, the license that arrived is remarkable. Sporting a modern design that takes into consideration our society's appetite for visual stimulation ('packaging' as important here, it would seem, as it is on a bag of Doritos, or an NFL-sponsored beer can), it's also decked out in a lot more of the 'bling' that, for better or worse, defines the age we live in - an age in which, for security purposes, everything must be watermarked and hologrammed to the Nth degree, in an effort to combat/discourage tampering and forgery. It's not a stretch to suggest that these days your license isn't so much about proving you are allowed to drive a car as it is proving that you are who you say you are (or think you are ;-)...proving your identity, and more importantly, ensuring someone else hasn't stolen it.
My new license has all the pertinent information, all the physical stats, like usual. There is a picture of me on the left, but now a weird, clear version of the same picture on the right as well, with my name represented in a squiggly line below (not sure what that's all about; doesn't seem all that different from Microsoft WordArt). Directly below the actual picture, my birth month is stamped in big block letters, allowing me to fool no one.
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| FRESH NEW LICENSE, FRESH NEW LOOK...TIRED, MIDDLE AGED JGLO - I've saved all my old driver's licenses over time, since receiving my first in January 1989 (on the first try, thank you very much). Can it be that in the ensuing quarter century, I have gained 45 pounds!? 8-/ |
But what really struck me was the expiration date, that is, the next time I will be required to get my license renewed: December 25, 2023.
The day I turn 51.
I've been dwelling on the passage of time as it relates to my getting older for a while now. I went through what I believe (hope) was a mid-life crisis a year or two ago. All things considered, that transpired smoothly: I didn't go off any type of deep end, didn't start wearing the wrong clothes, or try to surgically alter my appearance in any way, didn't start using words like "beast" and "legit" (although I WAS called out once for trying to sneak 'baby mama' into a conversation...lol.) I mostly became keenly aware of how quickly time is passing, and I admit, was kept up a few anxious nights fretting over the outrage of it all, before finally accepting it.
Holding my new license in my hands, that anxiety was revitalized, just for a moment. Oh hell, why don't I just come out and say it: cold reality smacked me across the face hard: I'm going to be past the half-century mark the next time I renew my license. Hair that has already start thinning will be thinner. The five o'clock shadow I've been hiding behind since I was that acne-ridden teenager, already starting to gray, will be even more so. There will likely be other passages in that time. A rearrangement, a shift of family dynamic. Nothing the same ever again.
It seems to me that fear of turning 50 isn't so much about the loss of youth and time (truthfully, a lot of that starts when you hit thirty), but the onslaught of new worries and concerns in the face of an entirely new uncertainty. The future is no longer guaranteed. It's never really guaranteed of course, but the average person under 40 lives comfortably inside a fortress of presumption that he or she will live to see another day, most likely.
After 40, and certainly after 50,"men of a certain age" cannot presume anything, and need to start doing things to help lock in on that next sunrise, things that are going to remind them on a daily basis that they're getting old.
Some of it I have on lock already. I eat better these days (or try to), and for the most part I don't have a problem eating better. I like veggies, and I don't feel the need to stuff myself with garbage every night, nor feel I'm in some way entitled to do so, for being American, or male, or some combination of the two. I drink a lot of green tea; that certainly can't hurt. I've cut out soda all together, rarely drink alcohol to excess (or at all), and I don't even have the sweet tooth I used to. I exercise regularly, too; sometime it takes every ounce of resolve that's in me to get myself to the gym...sometimes I don't go, roll over on the couch and sulk instead. But usually I do.
As for the regimen of pokes and probes out there waiting for this man of a certain age to arrive - heart monitoring, blood testing, the dreaded colonoscopy - well, that's all kind of a drag. But I'll show up, and hopefully be green-lighted for at least another twenty or thirty years.
But I will still be 51 the next time I renew my driver's license! Even healthy, fit as a fiddle, still managing to leap tall buildings in a single bound (well, under three at least), that's mind-boggling! Will I have done 1/48/50 by December 25, 2023? Will I get through 48 states in under 50 years? I'm coming up on the third anniversary of this blog. I've reviewed a lot of songs, given my opinions on all sorts of random things, from Kesha to the Kardashians to drone technology to highway construction, but...yeah...where am I, exactly, with regard to actually taking the trip?
If I don't take this trip before 50, it won't actually matter. I don't have to take it at all, and keeping that fact in perspective helps quell the anxiety. This blog is intended to be fun, a way to keep the idea fresh in my mind week after week. It's not a contract.
That being said, I'm trying to think of it that way. I want to take the trip before I'm 50, and I'm expecting to. And now that I've set myself the goal, and am actively seeking to make it happen, it has made me more sensitive to the passing of each new era in my life, and left 50 looming just a bit larger on the horizon than it otherwise would.
