Ruminations of an old dog

Today is my 60th birthday so I declare myself officially OLD.

While I’m far from the brightest bulb, I’ve not been oblivious over the six decades. Particularly over the last couple years, hindsight’s allowed me to assess what is important in life. It amounts to four things: family, dogs, books and music — in that order. Anything else — status, money, possessions, etc. — is essentially insignificant.

Family is somewhat self-evident. I’d never be where or who I am today had I not married well (although marrying wealthy would have been a bonus). Anyone who can put up with me over 36 years is a saint or crazy — actually a bit of both. Whenever and whatever I needed — support, solace, castigation — my wife provided. If anything, we’re more in love today than ever. (“All that I am/All that I ever was/Is here in your perfect eyes/They’re all I can see”).

My wife was also the moving force behind us having children. I grew up an only child so have never been accustomed to sharing space with siblings or even having other kids around for an extended period of time. I’ve even told my kids that if it had been up to me we’d only have had dogs. They listen better and are less trouble. What’s interesting, though, is that my daughters helped me discover my purpose in life. I won awards as a journalist and unquestionably significant cases as an attorney, such as this or this (although I’ve probably made just as much bad law). But if you ask me why I am here or about legacies, the answer has become very plain. I helped shape three strong, independent women who love each other more than anything. While no one is perfect (“You’re so much like me/I’m sorry”), each has her own unique talents and skills and they will undoubtedly do a better job of improving the world than I.

Some may be surprised to see dogs as second on my list. But to me, dogs are virtually family. I grew up with them and they taught me how to care for another living being as well as the grief that comes with death. Dogs provide both joy and comfort, asking little in return, a little food and water and some attention. Dogs perceive when you’re down or ill and commiserate with you. The adage “be the person your dog thinks you are” is more than simply aspirational.

Books should come as no surprise. Books go beyond entertaining; they are powerful and transformational. My daughters learned early that reading and books give you the power to learn and do almost anything. They also learned not only that a bookstore stop is a must in any city but that I was a sucker for “Can I have this book?” But it isn’t just what you can learn from books. They introduce you to people you’d never know and places you’ll never see. As Joyce Carol Oates said, “Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another’s skin, another’s voice, another’s soul.”

Music is akin to books in that it can be inspiring, escapist or comforting. It’s actually more mood- or attitude-setting than reading. (“You’re never alone, ’cause you can put on the ‘phones/And let the drummer tell your heart what to do”). Undoubtedly, everyone has songs that expressed just what they were thinking or feeling. This helps make music unique as a soundtrack for our lives. I couldn’t count the number of times songs will trigger a memory or a particular person, place or event. Music can even create a certain consciousness. Albums and songs have accompanied the highs and lows of life in ways I greatly appreciate.

Hopefully, this isn’t too mawkish. But not only does 60 bring home being old, it has an underlying connotation. There’s an adage that people hate birthdays but they’re better than the alternative. Given I had a heart attack at 35, I long doubted I would see this birthday. So while I bitch about the aches, pains and other physical manifestations of age, they reinforce that I’m still here. And they remind me of the important things in my life.

”Is That Me?”, The Uninvited