40

Today is my last day in the under-40 demographic. I don't seem to be as freaked out as some are at this point in their lives. If memory serves, my father was well into his second midlife crisis/sportscar at this point. I'm pretty content with where I am at this point. I'm happily married, I've got great kids, I like my job, I own my house, I have more hair than I know what to do with, etc. So I really don't have much cause to complain. Also, I can't afford a sportscar.

Still, according to the actuarial tables, I likely have more days behind me than ahead of me at this point, so that's something to think about.

When I contemplate the age of 40, I often think about John Lennon, who died at that age. Lennon really went through the wringer in his 30s, trying in every sort of way to figure out who he was and what life was all about. He wrote songs of anger and songs of beauty, he experimented with different religions and drugs, and then he kind of dropped out for a while. Then he emerged in his late 30s with the "Double Fantasy" album, writing songs about life that seemed like he'd finally achieved wisdom or some sort of state of grace. As he sang in "Watching the Wheels,"

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go

He was at peace. He'd figured it out. And he was friggin' 40. Food for thought.