O P I N I O N
NOT THAT PROFOUND
by Nathan Graziano
Another St. Patrick’s Day came and went. In my younger and more vulnerable years1, St. Paddy’s Day was a cause to celebrate all of the things that the younger version of me used to venerate—drinking to excess, rowdy crowds, vomiting in urinals.
This year, it was a more subdued affair. After a few beers at Chelby’s Pizza, I went home to pour a Guinness and watch reruns of “Cheers” on PlutoTV, a far cry from the debauchery of those “vulnerable” years.
Next week, I turn 50 years old, completing a half-century of spinning around the sun. And I’ve noticed that many of the things that once shined bright in my youth have lost their luster. Many of the things that I valued and enjoyed—some of which I masochistically enjoyed—are no longer that important, or that much fun.
I recently watched Bill Burr’s new stand-up special on Hulu, “Drop Dead Years.” The title comes from a bit where Burr labels the ages between 49 and 61 years old for men as our “Drop Dead Years”—meaning we are still too young to die of natural causes, but old enough to just drop dead at any point.
I found myself relating, and by the end of his routine2, I was convinced that Burr might be my spirit animal. It also got me thinking about some of those things, like St. Paddy’s Day, that are no longer all that enticing to me, early in my “Drop Dead Years.”
As I rapidly approach the Big Five-Oh, it seems like a reasonable time to reflect on these things. So without further adieu, here is a list—in no particular order—of things that have lost their shine for me after half a century.
Leaving the house. At one point in my life, I loved going to concerts and movies, attending sporting events and going on vacations to exotic places where I could learn about different people and, by proxy, myself. Not so much anymore. At risk of sounding like a curmudgeon—which I most certainly will anyway—I try to avoid large crowds and strange places. Leaving the house is no longer that appealing, and things have a way of sounding, smelling, tasting, feeling and looking better when I’m supine on a couch wearing sweatpants.
Drama. In those aforementioned “vulnerable” years, it always seemed like I was surrounded by drama in my relationships, or drama that I created for myself. After all, I write fiction and know that in order to have an interesting story, there needs to be a good conflict. I once thrived on conflict; I was an inveterate conflict junky. Now, as I pull up to the curb and park at 50 years old, I can do without conflicts and drama. It feels a lot safer to stay at home, read a book, and experience the drama vicariously. I remember once hearing an older person say, “I’m too old to fight with you.” I think I get what they meant now.
Fame. When I was younger, I really, really wanted to become a famous writer. In fact, I spent almost as much time fantasizing about becoming famous as I did actually writing the damn books that were supposed to get me there. Spoiler alert: It never happened. And for the life of me, I cannot remember why the idea of fame was so alluring. Nowadays, I much prefer anonymity to the weight of fame. I never used to understand why writers chose to use nom de plumes. I think I get that now, too.
Partying like a rock star. This one seems to encompass elements of all of the others. I used to party like a rock star because I wanted to be famous, and it seemed like something that famous people did; and partying like a rock star created a ton of drama for me outside of the home where there are laws that discourage you from behaving like you’re a member of Motley Crue. But now recovering from a hangover is a three-day process, and it is preferable to just stick with weed, remain supine on a couch in sweatpants and watch reruns of “Cheers” on PlutoTV.
You can send birthday greetings to Nate Graziano at [email protected]