It does not seem possible to me, turning 50.  And yet, here I am, already more than 24 hours past my 50th birthday. 

I saw an ad today highlighting a bunch of famous "baby boomers," the first of that demographic (born in 1946) to turn 60 and the catch line of the teaser ad copy said: Is 60 the new 40?

Hardly, but it was a good try, probably written by an aging copy writer, staring wistfully at his poster of the Doors playing the old Fillmore in San Francisco he keeps hanging in his office, if for no other reason that to remind him that he was once "with it, man."

My 50th came and went with little fanfare.  I received exactly two presents:  a gift certificate from my best friend and a bottle of JD "Single Barrel" bourbon that is out of this world.  And that was enough of a "celebration" to be honest.

I don't like the idea of turning 50; my life is more than half over now.  If pressed, I will have to admit that my life has been more blessed than most.  I have had a degree of fame, enough of a taste anyway to realize that being really famous is nothing more than a huge pain in the ass and is the price one pays for the riches that come with it.

There are more than a score of lost opportunities scattered among the five decades that rattle around in the rear view mirror of my-life-to-date; some of them make me weep; some of them make me angry; some of them make me wistful; some of them are secret and known only to me.

I have no idea if it is healthy to take stock of one's life, to chart out the X's and O's on the sidelines of one's existence, but it seems to be compelling to me to do so.  I'll spare you (whoever the hell "you" are these days, seeing as this has become a stealth blog) the long detailed list and just give you the cheat sheet version, looking back at where I was a year ago, before my life was "half over."
A year ago I was in the throes of Dengue Fever, wishing I were dead and promising myself that I would never, ever go anywhere more exotic than Disney World.  (I got over this pretty quickly and I am, in fact, planning another trip to Nicaragua in a few months.)

I weigh five pounds LESS today than I did a year ago.  This may not seem like a huge achievement but it's a damn sight better than weighing MORE than I did a year ago.
A year ago I didn't have a brilliant and feisty second daughter-in-law to go with my bright and insightful first daughter-in-law.  But my second son took care of that about mid-year.  She is a welcome addition to the family; she is a member of my professional tribe (journalist) and she is absolutely the best thing to have come along in my son's life, ever.

A year ago I wore glasses; today I don't thanks to laser surgery on my eyes.

A year ago I had $75,000 in cash in the bank; today I have $113,000 and I don't know if that is a good thing...

A year ago I was so pissed off about my job that I was threatening to just walk away from it all; today I'm on the cusp of having a dream job, one that I dreamt up on my own, pitched to my bosses and had accepted...  and now I'm scared to death that I'm getting what I wanted.  I'm scared that my tired old 50-year-body and spirit won't be up to rigors required of my new gig...

A year ago I had no idea what I wanted to do in ten years, now I know: when I turn 60 I am going to sail--SOLO--around the world non-stop, and none of this passage via the canals; I'm going around the three great capes.

A year ago my three older sons were dabbling in creative ventures; today all three of them have made money exercising their creative talents; two of them have made money with their photography and one is selling freelance articles to magazines.

Turning 50 isn't a thrill ride, but I'm sure as hell going to try and make being 50 a more exciting year than I've had in a long time.