People born in the 50s have lived in seven decades, two centuries, and two milleniums. We had the best music, fastest cars, drive-in theaters, soda fountains, and happy days. And we are not even that old yet. We’re just that cool.
I visited with some childhood friends this weekend. We’ve known each other about 45 years and I often reflect on how much we’ve changed, yet how much things remain the same.
Other than family members, can you name anyone in your life that you’ve known most, if not all, of your life? I’m proud to say I have a few that I’ve known more than three-quarters of my life. Plus, I have several important people in my life who are younger than me, and I have known them since they were born.
The greatest-girl-on-earth, Marissa, turned 30 last week. 30. I remember the day she was born, her childhood days, her high school drama, her college graduation, her marriage and divorce, and her total awesomeness. When I was 30, I was proud to have money in my 401(k) retirement account. I can’t recall much else that was award-worthy. Oh, I had a steady job, an apartment with Leslie, a car, a string of certifications indicating that I was good at my job. Nothing to be ashamed about.
Marissa is another ball-of-wax. She has the world ahead of her, she’s brilliant, and has a creative streak a mile wide. She can do anything and will do everything. And I couldn’t be more proud. She has friends today that were friends in elementary school, and I want to encourage her to keep those friends forever. Those friends will always be useful, even if she just uses them to write an ordinary blog post.