The 40-year-old niece and the 50-year-old nephew

Here's a video from 1988 in which 18-year-old me writes my 3-year-old niece Jessica's name on a piece of paper for her. And she delivers a harsh critique of my work.

Last month my niece Jessica turned 40. Tomorrow my nephew Mark turns 50.

These are wonderful milestones worth celebrating, but they're also strange to me.

For one thing, when I think of a "niece" or "nephew," I think of a child. Having a nephew hit the half-century mark, and a niece who isn't too terribly far off, tends to knock one for a bit of a loop.

Also, it means it was 10 years ago tomorrow I wrote this post, calling Mark "The 40-Year-Old Nephew." I've always liked that one.

I remember relatively little about Mark's birth in the spring of 1975, to the point that it's funny to consider there was a part of life when he wasn't around. He has just always been there, whether it's coming with me to live performances of the 80s musical acts we both love, sharing texts with word-for-word bits from our favorite stand-up comedians, or just getting together for family holidays and spending most of our time laughing.

As for Jessica, I do remember when she was born in the spring of 1985. I was a freshman in high school and, while still mostly clueless, at least old enough to understand what was going on. She would quickly become my honorary younger sister. When she was little, I would take her around in my yellow Chevy Chevette on field trips ranging from Gold Circle to Geauga Lake. (80'S ALERT! 80'S ALERT!)

Mark is a good father of two and now a good half-centenarian. Jessica is a good mother of two and now a good...almost-half centenarian?

Whatever you want to call them, I welcome them both to the Society of Middle-Aged Parents. We old fogeys are happy to have you.

I never anticipated being at the top of my game in my mid-50s

Three times I asked the AI Blog Post Image Generator for a photo of a "happy 50-year-old white man." This is what I got.

If you would have asked me when I was 18 at what age I would "peak," I probably would have said 30 or 35.

And sure enough, life really was good in my 30s.

But it's even better now at age 54, and I didn't see that coming.

None of us knows what's around the next corner of our lives, but at this moment, I can say things are humming along way better than I would have anticipated.

I have no chronic pain, I get to exercise regularly, I have a job I enjoy at a company that appreciates me, my family continues to be awesome despite my influence, and I engage in hobbies that are a heck of a lot of fun.

Like I said, any or all of that can change on a moment's notice. I have no idea what God has in store for me (read the book of Job for a case study in "whoa, didn't see that coming").

But right now, in 2024, my cup pretty well runneth over.

I have as much energy now as I did 25 years ago, though that's partly because we had a house full of little kids 25 years ago that made me chronically tired.

Still, I remain able to go hard from dawn to dusk and generally accomplish a lot of things in the course of a day that I find satisfying, both personally and professionally.

I have earned none of this privilege, by the way. I am entitled to zero of these blessings. And again, bad news could come tomorrow that puts a damper on all of it.

But right now, at this point in my life's journey, I am happy, relatively care-free, vibrant, and maybe a tad less dumb than I used to be.

(Still relatively dumb, of course, but getting smarter in slow, painful increments.)

And that's enough.

Whatever is coming down the road, my experience is that life begins at 50.

Who knew?