How often do you think about your own death? I don’t mean waking up with a new mole on your head and furiously typing into WebMD or having a near death experience from a Cadillac almost rear ending you at the gas pump at Spinx. I’m referring to making peace with your life and all that you’ve accomplished or experienced over the years. I started reckoning with my mortality after my 50th birthday. I had never really focused on the eventual demise of my physical existence until I hit that mid century mark. I’m now in the same category as an Eames lounge chairs. Mid fucking century.

Year 50 was when I started my reckoning as I’ve called it, mentioned it, primed it, fell right the fuck into the center of it yes I did. 50 was an eye opening odometer. Can’t roll that shit back in reverse like they tried to do with that 961 Ferrari 250 GT in Ferris Bueller’s day off. I didn’t plan this little reckoning although for many a year I kept telling myself “you need to change” “you need to do better” “you need to slow the fuck down” . I’m well aware of all of my shortcomings and bad habits. I’ve had front row seats to them my whole life. The problem is I chose to sit in the back and not pay any attention to the plot of the book or movie until it was 3/4 of the way over. Sometimes, most times I am my worst critic.

The last few years have sort of set me up for my reckoning. A perfect reckoning storm for me. At 49 the realization that my lifelong commitment and career in the service industry was on the verge of either killing me or placing me in a soft padded cell. I had put all of my skills and craft into one egg basket and threw that mother fucker against a wall. When my old partner and I had our last conversation he in all earnest mentioned to me that maybe I should find another vocational direction and I responded with “you might as well ask me to walk backwards the rest of my fucking life”

There’s no way to calculate the hours of my life that was spent to build, maintain it, grow something I aspired to do for 2 decades and have it all end with a half ass scribbled signature and an obligated handshake. Try to climb into your mind when you were a teenager and to how you pictured what life would be like when you hit 50. I missed my mark by a country mile.

It’s hard for me to accurately describe how I thought I’d turn out because my future vision was always tumultuous and unstable. Most long term ideas or pathways always seemed to end abruptly without warning. Relationships, school, careers all had good intentions but were as steady as a tightrope over a gorge. I was never a get rich quick schemer, my brother was and died penniless. I lived vicariously through his overnight success tries and anxiously awaited his proprietary propulsion that never arrived. Amway, colloidal minerals and a few others that I can’t recall but all of them involved some sort of periodical that you could order from.

I was a slow and steady wins the race type of guy. Find a good foothold in a company and work your way up. I knew my work ethic was strong and what I lacked in experience I countered with tenacity. Moving my way up I was the stay and work late guy, picked up that short shift, closed when no one else was available, or did the deed that was too dirty for anyone else. I knew what it took to climb and on occasion I’d step on your ass if you were trying to climb that same ladder. I refused to let anyone out work me. What an odd flex to look back on. For me it wasn’t a “you can depend on me!” more like “I can do this shit better than you” attitude that could make me a little difficult to work with. Like throwing on another 20lbs on your bench press when everyone is watching. (265 max when I was 22)

Where the fuck am I going with this?..

Oh yes, my vision of where I thought I’d be now. Honestly I can’t answer that and maybe that’s why I’ve always had a hard time finding a foothold of stability in my personal life and career. The one thing I didn’t think about was the constant struggle for happiness and paying bills. I will say I’ve been more fortunate than most. Not lucky just fortunate. Nothing fell into my lap I have worked for everything I’ve made/accomplished and even had to manipulate people and resources to get to where I’ve gone and lost. For me I found a niche (service industry) that I flourished in. I’m good at hospitality. Not necessarily the glad handling mind you of if I had a weak link that’s it for sure but I understood the craft and what makes it “IT”. And I’ve done well with it for the most part. Only problem is your success rate is worse than a pitcher’s batting average. You win some you lose a whole fucking lot.

So where did I see myself? Probably what I was programmed to see. Neighborhood home, wife kid or two, dog, two cats essentially what I have at the moment but I didn’t account for all the mental and physical exhaustion that 50 plus years of life will put on you. Nothing prepares you for what the simple act of living can do to you.. also “simple”, there’s not enough of that in life unless you seek it. You actually have go seek simplicity. Or at least I did. I’m currently in that pursuit for simplicity. It’s exhausting sometimes.

I went around the roundabout a half dozen times to get to my flacid thesis for this morning essay- mortality. I brought it up a few paragraphs ago and went on a tangent. It snaps together somewhere here I’m sure I’m sort of all over the place on this one.

So

When you’re a kid you aren’t focused on dying and well Goddamit you shouldn’t be. Death only happens to villains in comic books or movies. Sometimes it’s a gold fish you won at a fair that went tits up as soon as you dumped it in the fish bowl or a gerbil that choked on a Lego. You don’t get dressed up and visit the villain’s family for his wake after the hero pushes him off the cliff. You’re incredibly sad about the gerbil but then mom breaks out your favorite cereal bowl of Fruit Loops and your on to the next temporary pet.

When you’re in your teens you are immortal. Death is the last thing on your hormonal mind. You’re filling out, growing up and buying ridiculous parachute pants to charm the girls with your breakdance routine. Death comes at you in mini tragedies. It may be a grandparent, family dog that’s been there since you were a toddler or even a classmate that died in a tragic car wreck. Sometimes a classmate will get really sick and you won’t hear from them ever again until the primcipal announces it over the school intercom. They always announced it during home room to really get your day going. I lost a few distant friends during high school to car wrecks. Unfortunately my high school is nationally notorious for car wreck deaths. Viva la Wren. You might work a little bit work consists of 10 hours a week max or you’re doing side jobs so you can hang out with your friends at Pizza Hut after the football game.

Your 20s are about the same. You’re at full strength, full of seed, you’re peaking all over the goddamn place. Your focusing on sexual matters, maybe seeking your future family’s better half, you may be somewhat educated, fun flexible hobbies and for the last probable decade in your life, you look good naked without having to pay for it. You may have lost your first solo pet you adopted when you moved away from home. A friend dies tragically from an mistaken overdose or accident. That one friend everyone liked dies from leukemia he was diagnosed with late in high school. Maybe you’ve put your best foot forward starting a career or like a lot of us you’re bouncing around happily because in your 20s you just aren’t in that big of a hurry to grow up. Embrace those 20s y’all. They don’t come back.

Decade 3 gets weird. You finally get a glimpse of what deterioration is starting to do to your body. Maybe it’s just that damn sciatica inflamed or you pulled your back. Strange ailments you’ve never experienced hit you from outer space and you find yourself on WebMd googling symptoms. You still think you’re still at your peak but you begin to watch all your favorite sports players retire or lose a step while the commentators explain about how they are past their prime at 35. Fucking ouch.

That bench press mark gets a little harder to obtain. Hangovers are hellish and over the counter pain meds have secured a permanent storage spot in your car’s center console. A lot of you start to lose your parents around this time. Some lose friends to mysterious illnesses or thar older neighbor that would help watch the all the kids play in the cul de sac croaked. Life gets a tad harder here. Statistically you should be married by now with 1.7 kids. If you haven’t found job security yet you’re starting to feel that pinch. You aren’t where you thought you’d be on the ladder. You aren’t even standing on the fucking ladder. Pressure hits hard in your 30s. I have an emotional breakdown badge to prove it.

40s, you know the 40s aren’t that bad. Your back problems are constant but you’re used to them. You stop counting gray hairs and accept them. Maybe you have a cool little gray streak in your hair that makes you look wise, fashion is more longer as important. Comfort trumps fashion the older you get. You’re still considered in your work prime even if it’s physical labor. You have some aches and pains but you’re used to it. Your body is deteriorating slowly but maybe you aren’t so focused on kicking ass physically like you used to. You have resignated to the perpetual motion of age at least somewhat. Some of us blossom in our 40s. We slow down and take better care of ourselves. Diets become important. You don’t digest your favorite sins like you used to. Your jeans don’t sparkle on the pockets anymore (hopefully) and your smedium shirts get a little too tight to pull off at your age. Wisdom changes your perspective on life. You know your better days have some and gone but your making plans to slow it down. Your parents start dropping like flies at this time and some friend’s death get real. Heart attacks, strokes, organ failure keep you visiting the mortuary annually. Coworkers may pass and employers. You start seeking out ways for your family to get a solid death check in the mail if something should happen to you. You’re changing lifestyles to suit your pace and watching shitty lifetime movies. Social life consists of early dinners and cocktails. Only on occasion do you stay up past 11. Vocationally by now if you haven’t found stability you may never. It’s become problematic. Some of us may have our jobs disappear due to technology or we just become irrelevant with our outdated skills. Some employers will see you as overqualified or too set in your ways to fit in their young company. You may be fortunate to have a solid 401k. You have good equity in your home. Or maybe you had to refinance to pay off some random medical expense. Hopefully your college debt is finally paid off. Your kids are almost old enough to move out or already have. Most of your stress is just maintaining your life. Exhaustion hits a little harder and comes around 4pm, your new witching hour.

I don’t know about the rest of you half centurions but my brain clicked when I hit 50. Even when I was approaching the mile marker my mind, my body both were telling me -“sit down, let’s talk about this”

So we did. We had a long talk. We looked back on what we’ve accomplished and what we haven’t. That lever was a tad uneven so we talked about the future. We laughed and had a good cry. “Your 50s are going to be hard on you chief”. Decades of stress from work and my lifestyle had worn me down to bone on bone. I don’t know a whole lot about my ancestry but all of my grandparents were dead and gone before I met them. My old man passed at 64. His old man didn’t make it much further. Gangwer men like a good cocktail and a smoke and embrace chaos. I had given up smoking years ago. The drinking is what I was reckoning with. Oh yeah and the fucking chaos.

I wrote down all my bad things/habits I had accumulated over the years and checked off what I could no longer allow in my life. Whether it would pertain to lifestyle choices or just some dumb habits that slipped through the cracks. I checked off a lot. A whole goddamn lot.

It was a good talk. Honestly it changed my life and my preception pertaining to it. I won’t go balls deep into it because well it was between me and me and no one else. It was a reckoning. It went 9 rounds. Reckoning won every round.

So I hit my 50s in good stride. I put some differences aside and made peace with my place in life. I threw out my old expectations and simplified them. I’m sorta on my own terms with life and I don’t follow some of your rules because I exhausted myself trying to play your game of life. 50s are fun. You no longer try to run the fastest on the playground. The Jones moved way years ago, actually I did. You may wake up every morning like you played an abrupt game of pickup basketball the day before but you’ve made peace with some of the pain. And a lot of other pains. Physical things are a tad tougher especially if you haven’t taken care of yourself over the years. You might limp for the first few minutes out of bed or wince when you try to tie your shoes. Spicy foods are slowly leaving your daily meals, hot sauces are getting dusty in the cupboard and now you don’t flinch if something stops working for a few minutes. People talk faster than they used to or maybe your hearing is a tad slower.. Eye prescriptions get hairier and soon you make a choice of which would you rather see better more consistently. close up or far away. You may not get both. Cold gets a tad colder and summers seem to get shorter. Its no longer “seize the day!” mentality it’s more like “sleep the day”. I’m catching up on years of no sleep. That I’ll sleep when I’m dead attitude is dumb. Life needs rest it needs balance. Too bad it took 5 decades for me to realize this.

I’m orphaned now in my 50s and have made peace with my parents being long gone. By this time you may start to lose a sibling which I have and some good friends which I also have. It no longer becomes as tragic but instead it’s just the flow of life. Mortality is on every street corner. Random fb friends die every month. You’ve witnessed some hard funerals during these times and each year you’ll lose a little more. Every book ends I’m just trying to enjoy the last few chapters as much as I can. I had a conversation with a good friend not too long ago. We talked a little about death I had mentioned I no longer fear death. I absolutely do not look forward to it but I no longer worry about it. Other than the chance to spend the most time possible with my family and some friends I’ve made peace with my inner peace. I’ve worked a billion hours and really don’t have that much to show from my work career other than multiple Wusthof scars, burns and a propensity for breaking down some monstrous accounting numbers in my head. I’m good at what I did. I just can’t and don’t want to did it anymore. I’m sort of ok with that most days. There are still some days I want to take over the world I just don’t have the passion or the staff anymore. I don’t think anyone has the staff anymore honestly. I think about death quite a bit. On a different level now. It’s not about how I go. We are all gonna go. If it takes a while and I’m aware of it I’ll write all my friends letters saying goodbye. I’ll write about all the things I’ve loved about them and maybe share some of the things they did to piss me off just for fun.

At the end of each letter I’ll write “See ya soon!”

I’ll write a letter to my wife and daughter. For their eyes only. Telling them how they saved my life a thousand times. How they helped this reckoning of mine. Helped? They were the subject for my reckoning.

If I go fast I’ll make sure my last words to my friends, my family are kind and full of love. When I hit 50 my legacy changed. It stopped being an empire of financial wealth I became fixated with. It became a quest to be a better person. I want my family to remember me for being compassionate, loving, caring , unselfish. Full of blemishes but somewhat mended. I’m rewarded with giving back what I’ve learned and experienced. Tough fucking road to drive. I’m trying to hand out rest stops and water. Maybe a little navigation along the way. It’s why I do free restaurant consultations, it’s why I enjoy helping others with addiction. I’m 52 and I’m looking to possibly starting over again. Three years ago I was terrified. Now I’m genuinely curious as to what comes next. Regardless I refuse to dread. Dread’s dead baby I’m taking his chopper for a ride.

Even if I were to die tomorrow by some freak accident I have acknowledged that this little reckoning I’ve sculpted over the last few years has changed me and made me thankful for surviving and healing some of the scars and trauma I’ve accumulated over the years.

I’ve spent more time with the people I love in the past 3 years than in the last 30. I can’t imagine being on my death bed without the last three years of that life being relevant. I’ll never get the years back I had slinging overpriced china out from under a 250 degree heat lamp. But no one can take these last three years I’ve spent rebuilding my character, my mental health and my relationships with the ones I love away from me. These have been precious to me. They have literally changed my life.

Have I peaked? No clue because everyday I take a new step towards my reckoning. I don’t fear death because I’m overwhelmed by the gratitude of changing my life for the better. Regardless of how that last chapter reads whether it’s a few pages away or I have a long way to go I know at least now I’ve figured out the plot. Now I can enjoy the story.