I’ve been told that it’s common during one’s fiftieth year to do a recounting of the life you’ve lived so far. While the big 5-0 is past the halfway point for most of us, it’s a place to check momentum. How has the trip gone? Which turns have been the right ones (or wrong ones)? Is there enough gas in the tank to make it the rest of the way to the “final destination”…and in a way of our choosing?
Momentum, at this point, seems to take the place of fuel. If anything, the challenge is to gear down to keep the car from flying down the hill. While not everything our elders told us is gospel, the old folks who say that life starts moving faster at the half-century mark have it right in my book.
Despite the pressures of time, much of this year has been a chance to stand on top of the hill (the one I’ve been told I’m on my way over) and look around. It’s been less about innovation and change than inventory; directly, what’s been done and what’s left to do? 50 is a rare sweet spot in life; if you’ve taken a little care, your body will do most of what you ask it to and the brain is still firing on all cylinders…but there are permanent consequences for actions. The falls you take and injuries you receive are now milestones; you’ll get back up, but be forever changed with a pain that will never go away. There’s not much time left to “bounce back” from bad financial decisions. The friend who you just had a major blowup with might not live long enough for reconciliation.
50 is one giant reminder that there is no time to lose.
This past year has been the culmination of so many things for me. After doing public speaking engagements and offering management/business advise informally, I started my own LLC, “Tonkin to You.” This “side gig” has allowed me to showcase the subjects I’ve developed in the classroom…while bringing new and current industry ideas back to my students. I began releasing music under the moniker “Scorched Earth Syndrome.” Each of these tunes has been crafted through collaboration with the amazing musicians I’ve gotten to know over my 35 years of experience as a gigging bassist. When I review the songwriting credits, the sheer number of talented friends who’ve decided to donate their talents is staggering.
Perhaps the best part, however, is that I can track my connection to one of my main co-composers, the amazingly skilled guitar wizard Bob McGarvey, back to 1978. Bob was my first ever friend in grade school and has been a part of my life for 45 years. He’s had my back in every single phase of my existence; we played in our first band, wrote our first songs, and even grieved together throughout our losses (I lost my mom the week of Thanksgiving, 1988; his dad died near Christmas that same year). The day after my brother’s house burned down in 2021, Bob was the guy who was volunteering to rehabilitate his guitars. Almost half a century into our friendship, and we’re still making music together (please note that the following photo is over a decade old...my hairy "awesomeness" has been gone for a while).
These kinds of relationships are the best part of 50. To be able to realize that the people you count among your “new” friends have often been in your life for a decade. Or two! Or three! As a college prof, it’s tough to explain to younger folks what it’s like to have friendships that are over twice as long as their entire lifespans so far. To get to enjoy the company of the “family you have picked for yourself” is one of the greatest gifts that time can give us.
Alas, it’s not permanent. A friend of mine recently told me about an inlaw, only three years older than me, who was suffering from early onset dementia. As we age, more of our gatherings become centered around loss; there are faces in our high school yearbooks who are no longer with us. The maladies in our own friend groups range from inconvenient to life-altering as the early shots of physical decline shoot across our collective bow.
Never in my life have I wanted to “be here” more than today. I’m invested in a career that fulfills me and feeds my soul. I’m releasing music and performing live at levels my 15-year-old self wouldn’t have believed possible. I’m married to my soulmate, own a company doing work I believe in, and at night, I come home to two doggos who love me even on my worst days. I am blessed (and the dogs are usually happier than in this pic).
And all of it could be gone in a minute. I could be gone in a minute. All of this wonderful existence could be gone in a minute.
In this world where conflict is spreading and good news seems in short supply, we should be reaching out. Connecting. Talking. Listening. Reminding our friends that we are still here and there’s still time to make new memories and to be present with each other.
My takeaway message as 2023 draws to a close: Make that call, schedule that lunch date, send that text message, and spend time with an old friend. We owe it to those who gave us a chance to be where we are to make the most of this life as possible. 45-year friendships don’t last forever; enjoy the good wine that the fruits of these relationships has produced. I guarantee that it only gets sweeter with time.
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