When Alexander the Great was 45, he'd been dead for twelve years.
When Teddy Roosevelt was 45, he was carving a canal through Panama.
When my dad was 45, he had five kids. My friend's dad had nine kids at age 41. Me? I got married less than two weeks before I turned 40, and we're still hoping for our first child. I'm a late bloomer, but my wife was worth the wait.
I don't feel 45. I'm told I don't look 45. I'd say I don't act 45, but it's hard to say what 45 "acts like" these days. When Weird Al Yankovic was 45, he was doing "White and Nerdy" with Donny Osmond.
45 seemed a lot older when I was younger. Now? Not so much. A hundred years ago, 45 meant you were - surprisingly - not dead yet. fifty years ago, you were on the downslope of your life, everything in place and hurtling toward retirement. These days 45 seems more like the new 29; good for you if you've got it together, but not a huge surprise if you don't. Some friends my age are now grandparents; others, still partying like lost boys in Neverland.
All things considered, I feel like I have the best of worlds: older, but not old. And no plans to change that state of things.
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