Messenger-Inquirer, Owensboro, Ky., Don Wilkins column

Dec. 07--There is no mercy when it comes to Father Time and his wrecking ball.

I say this as I am T-minus six days from turning 40.

Another way of putting it is four decades old, but that doesn't sound any better.

For the past year, I've tried to prepare myself for this bridge I'm about to cross -- one that is becoming more rickety with each passing day.

Some refer to turning 40 as a milestone. I call it more of an unavoidable stepping stone in life -- a way of trying to console myself that there's nothing I can do about it so why worry.

Still, I can't help but feel the anxiety that comes with the very thought of "Lordy, lordy look who's turning 40," as those awful Grim Reaper yard signs proclaim.

Long gone are the days of my invincible youth. I've gone from thinking nothing can kill me to everything I do has the potential of putting me on the obituary page of this newspaper.

Back in my teen and college days, I'd brag about partying and staying up until dawn.

Now, I brag about taking naps.

And when I hear my buddies boasting about taking a two-hour Sunday nap, I become jealous.

"No fair" or "He's lucky," is what usually crosses through my head.

Sad, I know.

Along with the muscle aches, thinning hairline and extra ear and nose hair, I'm noticing other subtle signs of old age.

I'm starting to receive solicitations from AARP, funeral home brochures about pre-need plans and Medicare information (I tell myself that they have me confused with my father -- no offense, Dad).

I do remember a time when I used to embrace birthdays.

I couldn't wait to turn 13 to become a teenager; couldn't wait to turn 16 to get my driver's license; couldn't wait to turn 18 to become an adult; couldn't wait to turn 21 to purchase adult beverages; and couldn't wait to turn 25 to see my car insurance drop -- a myth, by the way.

Since turning 30, the days, months and years have melted away faster than ice in a warm glass of sweet tea.

When I hear my kids saying they want Christmas or their birthdays "to hurry up and get here," I'm quick to tell them not to wish their life away.

So now as I cling to 39, I find myself struggling for the first time with my age.

I wouldn't call it a mid-life crisis. I have no thoughts of inking a giant tattoo across my chest, piercing any of my body parts or buying a muscle car.

My wife, however, has tried to convince me to touch-up my graying hair.

I considered sandy blond but talked myself out of it. Something just isn't right about a man coloring his hair to give the appearance of being younger.

Though it's hard to accept at this moment, the proper mindset is to grow old gracefully and be content with hanging out at McDonald's in the morning drinking my senior coffee.

There comes a point when going to bed before 9 p.m., driving 10 mph below the speed limit and listening to Michael Bolton instead of Kid Rock are OK.

And I know my faith will give me inner-peace when Dec. 13 comes on Friday.

I will also be able to look back at the past 40 years with a blessed heart.

I have an adoring wife, three children, a home and a job that allows me to do what I love.

I couldn't ask for anything more -- except for at least four more good decades.

Don Wilkins, [email protected], 691-7296, Twitter: @DonWilkinsMI

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