68 With A Stick

It’s a really excellent stick. Ausgezeichnet, so to speak.

First of all, today is my birthday, I’m now 68.

But why the stick? (Despite the fact that it’s an excellent stick!)

A few days ago I scanned past a post on some social media site or the other and saw a picture of a guy with a stick. It was a nice stick, a very nice stick. He had been out for a walk, had found the stick along the way, and had picked it up and was taking it home because when he was a little kid, if he was out playing and he found a very nice stick, he would pick it up to play with and take home. And he was betting that all of us would have done the same. AND HE WAS RIGHT!

The bigger point was that we had changed as adults, and not necessarily for the better. We had lost the ability to be playful, to find joy in simple things, to just pick up that stick and play with it and take it home just because it was COOL! He was reclaiming that childhood wonder. He was going to play with the stick! It was his! He found it, fair and square! He was going to take it home!

I was impressed. And inspired.

And then, that very afternoon, I found an excellent stick in our front yard. (It’s been windy.) And while contemplating my advancing age and impending natal day celebration, I realized that this was a *SIGN*.

So here I am, 68, with my stick. What kind of stick? A really excellent stick. (Pay attention. Work with me here. It’s probably either a midlife crisis or a stroke.)