Celebrating My Half Birthday

Today we are observing my half birthday. If that term is unfamiliar to you, think back to the years of childhood. When six months went by after your fifth birthday you would proudly say to those who asked, "I'm five and a half." This continued until you were about twelve and then you gave it up as being juvenile.
The years hurry by, seeming to increase speed a little with every one that passes, until the morning arrives when you look in a mirror and give a cry of fright. Who is that old man staring back at you. or woman as the case may be? You peer over your shoulder, find no one else there and reluctantly accept the fact that the old guy is you.

That's when outlooks change. You don't much care whether the car battery you buy has a three or five year warranty. When a doctor says, "Come back and see me in a year," you don't bother to tell him you think in terms of days, not years. Eventually, if you keep on surviving, you reach the stage of just hoping you make it to supper time.

So that is why we observe half birthdays. Today I am halfway to eighty-three. Waiting six more months for a celebration would be, if you're honest about it, risky.

We are hoping to make half birthdays a customary practice for everyone who somehow manages to reach the age of seventy-five. What began during childhood as a way of showing maturity should now be seen as a way of hedging your bets, of covering all bases, of not counting your chickens before they hatch.
And so, having attained this exalted stage of life, this milestone that many people never reach, I shall close by saying, "Happy half birthday to me."

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