Ulysses Simpson Grant, Paul Simon, Mike Singletary and me. The portrait of U.S. Grant, our 18th U.S. President, adorns the $50 bill. Paul Simon’s 1975 hit from the album “Still Crazy After All These Years” was “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.” (You’re probably humming ‘Just slip out the back, Jack; make a new plan, Stan; hop on the bus, Gus,’ right about now.) Mike Singletary, the great linebacker of the Super Bowl XX champion Chicago Bears, wore No. 50.
As for me, well, in a matter of a few days, I’ll reach that milestone of 50 years old. Joining me this year on the black balloon party stage are the likes of Tom Cruise, Jodie Foster, Demi Moore, Jim Carey, Axl Rose, Garth Brooks, Sheryl Crow, Jon Stewart, Lou Diamond Phillips, Matthew Broderick, Star Jones, Emilio Estevez, Paula Abdul, Steve Carell, both Flea and Anthony Kiedis (from the Red Hot Chili Peppers) and the woman I’d least like to share a 50th birthday year with, Rosie O’Donnell. Two of the Desperate Housewives will also turn 50 this year, but I forget their names, as I seem to more and more often these days.
I figured that since I’m entering a different phase of life where I can no longer answer how old I am with “I’m on the backside of 40,” I’d study this number 50 a bit.
We all know that a golden anniversary is the 50th. In 1959, Hawaii became our 50th state. Chemically speaking, the Atomic number is 50.
The Roman numeral for 50 is L, which, for anyone that has ever had a teenager, knows also is a hand signal for “Loser.”
Life magazine once named Nevada’s Highway 50 the “Loneliest Highway in America.”
Turning 25 was much more traumatic for me than turning 40. I’m not sure what to think of this 50 thing just yet. I do know that I let many things slide that I at one time in my life would fall asleep worrying about, only to wake up worrying about it even more. As someone said, we just don’t sweat the little things anymore, and almost everything is now considered a little thing.
Years ago I stopped sucking in my stomach when someone would take a picture, like during a golf tournament. I came to the realization that you went from being a bit overweight to looking like someone a bit overweight trying to suck in his stomach.
As one guy said, by the time you turn 50 there is nothing left to learn the hard way.
I decided after knee surgery No. 7 I would not have another one unless it literally meant the difference in walking or not walking. That was probably not a smart move, but I have avoided No. 8 since undergoing my last one 15 years ago. Did I mention I’ve had a quadruple bypass since then?
Of course, with these knees, I cut down on my golf swing, which keeps more balls in play than swinging for glory and often finding it somewhere on the side of Clubhouse Drive. They also work as excellent meteorologist, often providing a much better forecast than those paid to do so. So, I’ve got that going for me.
It took the better part of 50 years for me to wake up each morning with Little Rock in my eyes, but I’m sure glad I’m here. Would I go back and change things? Duh? Absolutely. While I am blessed with two of the greatest daughters on earth, the good Lord has allowed me to fumble more often than a third-string running back. Maybe, just maybe, he looks at turnovers as little things too, as long as I keep trying.
I’ve seen all of these lists for people of 50 Things To Do Before You Die. But, I’m not interested in climbing one of the world’s Seven Summits. As I mentioned, I have bad knees. Besides, I hate cold weather. Also, I will not Run With the Bulls in Spain, even if the knees were good. I’m just going to try not to fumble… as often.
The 50-move rule in the game of chess – following 50 consecutive moves of white and black pieces without any piece taken or a pawn moved – allows a player to claim a draw.
As best I can figure, my pawn hasn’t been moved. I claim a draw.