The Summer I Turned 40

Provided By Author

  n this second installment of my “getting older” series, where I previously discussed the nostalgia that comes with aging in Las Vegas, I now tackle changing jobs when you’re stuck in your ways. Not only did I change jobs and move to a new city, but I also attended a 3-month training academy for the new gig. To prove there is no rest for the weary, I had to immediately report to my new place of employment, which was over 1 hour 20 minutes away, because I wouldn’t move until after training.

This all occurred during the end of the spring 2025 semester because, like many of you dear readers, I am a law student. A bright spot in these trying times was visiting my daughter in Tokyo, Japan, at the end of her semester abroad; A trip my previous employer would not have allowed. We shopped, chatted, ate, and packed. It was wonderful. During all this, while on the other side of the world, I took a final for one class and polished up a final paper for another. Not to mention I missed a connecting flight enroute to Japan, which delayed me 24 hours – but we won’t go down that rabbit hole. This is only how summer began.  

  I then went to the aforementioned training academy as a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed 39-year-old and came out a bitter man of 40. The last time I went through an academy like this, my age had a 2 in front of it and my foot didn’t have a metal plate in it. I also had one less knee surgery. Time had taken its toll. Everything being taught, especially the physical aspects, was different than my previous job. I no longer had the benefit of youthful ferocity to cover up my lack of natural talents. The instructors seemed to enjoy the tearing down of trainees. When I attended U.S. Army basic training over 20 years ago, the drill sergeants tore down recruits with glee, but they then built them up. A soldier left that experience with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Having completed this new academy, I’m still waiting for the building-up portion of that training. Amid all of this, I turned 40 on a Friday, had a few frosty beverages with my classmates, then flew the following day to Chicago to enjoy steak with one of my best friends. Steaks and champagne, of course. Only to return to critiques and threats for two more months after my birthday weekend. The summer course and the start of the fall semester added more flavor to this wonderfully stressful environment. So, what am I now that I am back home and I am done with that whole ordeal? 

  Grateful. 

  I now know what I can do mentally and physically. I am stronger and don’t need instructors to hold my hand. They can be downright hostile, but they won’t stop me from accomplishing my goals. I look forward to what my 40s hold. Ready, steely-eyed and with a smile on my face.