50

Well, it does look like a big number, but then again, it depends on the context: it’s what you’d pay to buy Baltic Avenue in Monopoly (or is it Mediterranean Ave?). If it were a lottery payout, you’d think it was a pretty small number. Compared to the age of the universe, it’s a blip. So, 50 is really only as big as you make it. If you even want to make it a deal at all.

But it is kind of a deal. If I don’t do something stupid and die before I’m 100, 50 is smack dab in the middle of middle age. It feels like a bigger deal than 40. I suppose when I turn 60, I’ll be saying the same thing about 50. But it’s kind of a landmark - like New Year’s, it’s a time to take stock of your life.

Phrases like, “take stock of your life,” automatically make me want to rebel and go out and break minor laws. The words are uttered in a faintly British accent, in sonorous, serious tones, and I’m fairly sure the products thusly stocked involve Serious Endeavors, Reproduction (and of not just average children, but of highly achieving, Mensa members), A Lot of Money in the Bank, and A Very Clean House.

I have none of these things.

What I do have is the memory from a bicycle trip where my bike was leaning up against a picnic table, panniers front and back, and I looked at it and thought, “That’s all I need.” So when I look at our messy, mid-remodel house, and my messy, unemployed delight of a husband, and my I-love-it-most-of-the-time job (and the fact that I have a job at all), not to mention my sweet family, my most excellent friends, and my most adorable and fuzzy kitty, well, I have to say, I feel like I’m doing okay.

We’re up here in the very frozen northland of Superior, Wisconsin, on the edge of Lake Superior, which is ice for a good mile out from the harbor. The ice buckles up into a ridge where it meets the open water, and the ridge is visible from the shore. It makes a person feel very small and easily frozen.

But somewhere between the expanse of the whole wide universe and the minutiae of me lies the Anchor Bar in Superior, and the in-the-moment pleasure of a great burger and fries and excellent beer. Life is where you grab it and make it great, and may you do so whether you’re 5 or 25 or 50 or 89. Cheers!