Four thoughts, one for each decade:
The Banner
There was a banner across the entrance to the house when my mother’s cousin turned forty. “Lordy! Lordy! C’s forty!” It seemed to be such a big deal, her turning forty. She was aghast, horrified. Or at least she pretended to be.
I was more curious about the banner they might hang the next decade: the only thing I could think of to rhyme with “fifty” was “nifty.”
U2’s “40”
Thirty
When I turned thirty, I had a party. Not a lot of people; not a lot of food; not a lot of anything except dancing and the other thing that goes along with Polish parties.
It was a fun and funny night, with my best friends and my then-girlfriend, now-wife.
Being Forty
Doesn’t feel like being thirty-nine. Or twenty-nine. But who would have thought it would? Or should?