Fungible Convictions

Today I’m 30.

A few people have asked if it makes me feel old.

I respond, “I was born old.” I enjoy going to bed early. I wake up early. I watch 60 Minutes. I wear the same wool cap my sixty-year-old father and ninety-year-old grandfather do. I drink scotch and fret about my retirement fund and can cite 1989 baseball starting lineups better than those from 2009*.

30 is the new 60 is the new prime.

* 1989 Baltimore Orioles, off the top of my head vs. actual…

Off the Top of My Head

1. Phil Bradley, CF
2. Mike Devereaux, LF
3. Cal Ripken, Jr., SS
4. Mickey Tettleton, C
5. Larry Sheets, DH
6. Joe Orsulak, RF
7. Craig Worthington
8. Randy Milligan, 1B
9. Billy Ripken, 2B

Opening day starting pitcher: Jeff Ballard

Actual (via http://www.baseball-reference.com/teams/BAL/1989.shtml

1. Phil Bradley, CF (correct)
2. Mike Devereaux, LF (correct)
3. Cal Ripken, Jr., SS (correct)
4. Mickey Tettleton, C (correct)
5. Larry Sheets, DH (correct)
6. Joe Orsulak, RF (correct)
7. Craig Worthington (correct)
8. Randy Milligan, 1B (correct)
9. Billy Ripken, 2B (correct)

Open day starter: Dave Schmidt (incorrect)

One thing is humbling for sure: I’m older today than all but one of those players was in ’89.

The last week or so have been a set of downright pleasant days. Shall we count the ways:

• Baseball’s position players reported to spring training yesterday
• I exchanged awesome emails with the wife of the late jazz great Charles Mingus
• We caught my friend Walter‘s really excellent show at the Armory Cafe in Somerville
• We hung out with friends at Toad a couple nights later
• My wife gave me an early birthday present of a high-priced Invictus wristwatch bought for a preposterously low price
• And I wasn’t immediately shot down when I floated the idea of going to Chicago on the Center for Future Civic Media’s dime to present projects to high schoolers who happen to be students of one of my best friends

It’s like I’m Gatsby and life is a squirrel, and we’re just waiting for the right moment to attack and/or spoon each other.

It’s a lot better than the week or two prior, which was capped off by a scream from the bathroom as my wife accidentally discharged a loaded heart-shaped Valentine’s liquid soap: