I'm 37. I'm Not Old

King Arthur: Old woman!

Mark: Man!

King Arthur: Man, sorry. What knight lives in that castle?

Mark: I'm 37.

King Arthur: What?

Mark: I'm 37. I'm not old.

King Arthur: Well I can't just call you man.

Mark: You could have called me "Mark"

King Arthur: I didn't know you were called "Mark"

Mark: Well you didn't bother to find out, did you?

King Arthur: I did say sorry about the "old woman" but from behind you looked rather . . .

Mark: What I object to is you automatically treating me like an inferior.

King Arthur: Well I am king.

Mark: Oh King, eh? Very nice. And how'd you get that then? By exploiting the workers? By hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society?


That little interlude brought to you by Monty Python and the Holy Grail. (Of course, I replaced "Dennis" with "Mark" purely for my own amusement.

Francine and I went in to Toronto last night for a surprise birthday party for her old college buddy, Lisa. It was Lisa's 40th birthday. We went to The Madison Avenue Pub. We had a great time. Because we'd moved several times from spot to spot and floor to floor, the pub had this "college house party" feel to it which I quite enjoyed. It reminded me at times about some of the bars down in the "market" in Ottawa and at other times like some of the places in Hess villiage in Hamilton.

I remember at one time just stopping chatting and laughing and paused to look around at the people sitting around our group of tables. I realized that I was looking at a group of people mostly in their late 30's and early 40's -- but I didn't feel 40. (Okay, I'm 37, but it's close enough). And none of them really looked 40. (Yeah, sure, I know I look 40, but none of the others really looked older than maybe late twenties). I felt pretty much the same as I did when I was 20 and doing the same sort of thing. Okay, sure, I have less hair now, and more control with my credit card, and yeah, my mind kept wandering back to Alexander, wondering if he was sleeping soundly or giving my mother-in-law any trouble.

I flashed back to being young and being at my cousin's place in Dowling at celebrating my uncle's 40th birthday. My dad was about the same age. I remember looking at the two of them, looking at my parents and thinking "man, that's really old" -- and never imagined myself at the same age hanging out in a cool pub in downtown Toronto amidst plenty of people half of my age. It's fascinating how perception changes, how when I was really young I thought 40 was ancient, but now that I'm so close to that age, it doesn't feel old at all.

I wonder if I'll still feel like that when I'm 50? God, I hope so.