THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1997, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 26, 1997 TAG: 9701260100
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Paul South
LENGTH: 70 lines
Turning 40, I thought, would be hazardous to my health. So I braced myself.
I was ready for the message from a friend that read, ``If he's not too old and sick to come to work, have him call me.''
I was prepared for the phone calls that began, ``Happy Birthday, old man,'' or some variation not exactly suitable for a family newspaper.
And I was all set to be Patsy Cline-record playin' down in the dumps, feelin' as depressed as Bob Dole on election night.
I just wanted the day to pass without fanfare, like National Asparagus Day.
But something happened.
I got a card from my mom that read ``Do Something on Your Birthday that reminds you of your wild reckless youth. Play an album.''
Inserted between the ``an'' and the ``album'' was the word ``Beetles.'' My mom meant ``Beatles,'' of course, as in John, Paul, George and Ringo, the rock 'n' roll icons of my elementary school days. But her error made me laugh. If it is possible to misspell with love, moms can do that.
Enclosed in the large manila envelope that held the card were three prints, painted by a Birmingham artist, of campus scenes at Auburn University, my alma mater: Samford Hall, the administration building and campus landmark, Johnston and Malone Bookstore, run by the Johnston family for decades. Skip Johnston was the punter for the football Tigers when I was there, and a dear friend.
And there was a painting of the Sani-Freeze. Known to students as ``The Sani-Flush,'' it was a marvelous location for a hot fudge sundae with a cheap date. Twenty years ago, even the most beautiful coed from the wealthiest of families would be enthralled after a movie and a trip to ``The Flush.''
I looked at those pictures, remembered the old days, and smiled.
I thought of how I was then, with eyes full of optimism, a heart full of fire and a head full of hair, and smiled.
Back then, I was on a roll.
As the day slipped by, my colleagues at work showered me with all manner of treats. My boss baked a chocolate cake, adorned with four tiny blue candles. It's a good thing they didn't follow tradition and use 40. A smoke alarm can stand only so much. He also gave me a copy of ``Chicken Soup for the Soul,'' inscribed with words I will forever treasure.
Other colleagues presented me with marvelous cigars and brandy, to savor on cold winter nights, when reflection takes hold.
Another friend sent me a bright bouquet of balloons, a gift as unexpected as appreciated. A great neighbor brought a gift as well.
As day gave way to velvet dark, friends treated me to a marvelous dinner, filled with good food, sparkling laughter, and warm conversation.
The youngest of my dinner companions, 3-month-old Ryland Cale DeGregory, slept soundly through the merriment. One of the joys of the evening was watching this little child and his parents. I hoped for the three of them that when he is 40, he will have known as much goodness and happiness as I have, and that life for him will be as content and peaceful as that moment of full-bellied sleep.
Before midnight, I arrived home. The lights were on, and my cat, Catfish, was sleeping soundly on the back of the sofa.
I thought for more than a few moments about the day. How lucky to have such wonderful friends and family. How exciting to have grown up in a time when Billy Graham, Mickey Mantle, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. walked the Earth. How great it is to have been raised to like sports and barbecue, and collard greens, and tomato sandwiches. And how blessed it is to have memories.
There is still much I want to do. Like have a family. Write a book. Cover a World Series. But more than that, I want to make somebody's life, and the life of this country, just a bit better than when I got here 40 years ago.
My eyes may have bags underneath. I don't have as much hair. And my heart has a few cracks.
But as long as I've got dreams left, I'm still on a roll.
Bring on 50.