When I was growing up, I remember hearing people describing men "of a certain age." The phrase was used with a hushed tone...a muted phrasing that somehow implied respect and insult at the same time. There was reverence co-existing with sadness, gratitude for the longevity the person had achieved along with poor prospects for long term survival. It was like listening to someone talking about a friend who had finally scored the girl of his dreams and was happier than ever....but that she was 20 years younger than him. You could almost hear someone say: "I'm glad he's happy but it will never last." Now, I'm a man "of a certain age"...49 to be exact...and I am also happier than ever...in my marriage, work, and artistic expression. And, as in the analogy, I also know that time cannot stand still. This age cannot last forever. In moments of reflection and activity, silence and noise, I've realized that middle-age is the "sweet spot" o