Years ago, Jimmy Buffett wrote one of my favorite songs of all time, “A Pirate Looks at Forty.” Soothing in nature with a good beat and lyrics that probably resonate with most middle-aged men, it’s a timeless classic. The rhythm picks up when he lays out the lyrics, “Yes, I am a pirate, two hundred years too late. The canons don’t thunder, there’s nothin’ to plunder. I’m an over-forty victim of fate.” Although, I’ve been listening to that song my entire life, I don’t think I’ve ever related to it as much as I do right now sitting here writing this column.
Before you think I’m totally crazy, no I’m not a pirate, nor do I claim to be. But there’s something else being described in this song. It’s not just about being a pirate, it’s about facing middle age and hanging on to adventure. At present, I’m writing this column as I wind down the day on my fortieth birthday. For starters, if you’d asked me twenty years ago if I would have lived to see forty, I would have laughed at you and said most likely not. There was a time when I had a tendency to do some pretty stupid, but adventurous, things. Luckily for all of you, they turned into some pretty good stories to tell in newspapers.
Later in the song, Buffett proclaims that he has “just a few friends.” I’ve thought a lot about friends today. There’s no doubt in my mind that the best thing about social media is all of the birthday wishes that you get. But I also thought about the older that I get, even though I meet new people all of the time and have plenty of friends, that there are just a few friends that I really connect with on a truly personal level. I thought today about all of the friends that never got to see forty and how easily it could have happened to me, or any of my other friends. We really are living on borrowed time each day.
There’s another verse in the song where he claims to “go for younger women.” He lost me there, kind of. My wife is older than me in age, but my body is absolutely older than hers, partially due to my youthful spirit. I think part of the reason that I made it to forty is because of her and the kids. Responsibility can do that to you. And I haven’t really ran her away yet fortunately, although I tick her off from time to time. Thankfully she sticks around and still manages a smile.
Now, the real theme of the song is the feeling of being born in the wrong time, and that’s something I can relate to these days. I often find myself longing for the days of old and the simplicity and adventure that came with them. I think I would have been much better suited for the world to have been a middle-aged man a long time ago. I miss the ruggedness of America before the days of the tech takeover. Back when men were men and the world didn’t view masculinity as toxic, whatever the heck that means.
Another line in the song that hung me up was, “My occupational hazard being my occupation’s just not around.” I thought about the jobs that I’ve held but didn’t totally define who I am, or who I’ve been. I’ve worked on grounds crews, coached college baseball for sixteen years, and been in college athletic administration for almost two years now. And while those are real life jobs, I’m not sure they qualify as adventurous, which is what I’ve been more suited to be. I used to love a great adventure. I’d run up and down the river all night and sleep in the sand when I got too tired to keep going. I wrestled an alligator once in my youth, caught snakes, built shelters out of sticks and mud, and at some point hunted and killed just about everything you can in Mississippi. As I get older, I fear I’m losing that adventurous side that used to really fuel my zest for life. I much prefer the comfort and warmth of a cabin now in place of a sandbar. I like a fluffy pillow instead of a rolled-up towel. And it’s not just that I prefer those things, it’s the fact that my body doesn’t quite respond as well to abuse as it used to. A great example is that I’ll sometimes get hurt in my sleep now. I can sleep in an awkward position and wake up the next day and not be able to walk. Adventures are getting fewer and fewer to the point where my real occupation (adventure) is just not around.
To try and tie a bow on this day, and this column, while leaving you with something positive, Buffett sings, “In your belly, you hold the treasures few have ever seen. Most of ‘em dream, most of ‘em dream.” In forty years of adventure, I’ve seen so many great things that a lot of people can only dream about. From the scenery on hunting and fishing trips to the pure excitement of winning championships and watching my children grow, my life has been full. I’ve been able to be a kid for most of forty years. I hope I have another forty years of seeing amazing things. But for now, I’ve got to stop wishin’, gotta go fishin’, I’m down to rock bottom again.
