The Obsession with Youth

Today’s post on Getting Out More is more of a reflective piece.  I really need to go someplace new before I get too deep!

They say youth is wasted on the young, and looking back, as a man in his mid-forties, I have to say that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. When I was a young man coming up, it always felt like someone was saying, “Wait your turn. Your day will come.” And unfortunately it never did. Anyway, not how I expected it to be.

As a young man, I was saddled with certain responsibilities that are inherent to starting out. I chose the path of family man as I also worked to fit my goals and dreams into my life where and when I could. In stolen hours at night when the kids were asleep, I worked on short stories and novels. Sometimes that degenerated into watching Kurosawa movies until 3am because nobody was up to tell me to go to bed. Of course, I would pay for it the next day as I medicated myself with caffeine to keep up with work.

This year, I turned 44 and one of the presents I got was my first bout of pneumonia. I’m still recovering. One of the hardest things to come to term with in this illness has been just how difficult recovery has been. Pneumonia feels like such an old person illness too, or something reserved for frail antebellum children to die from in order to push the plot forward for their protagonist/antagonist siblings. We can credit shitty lungs to the longevity of Jo March as a beloved literary character. Also, why we love Doc Holliday so much too. He was a badass with a wheezing cough and a wit nearly as quick as his draw…

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