The first person to ever refer to me as middle-aged in print was my friend Rod Dreher. On the one hand, I appreciated the publicity. On the other hand, I was 34 at the time, and I may never entirely forgive him. Still, the shock has waned, and I have come to terms with the fact that if I'm not middle aged now, I will officially be so on August 15 when I cross the line into my 40s.
To be absolutely honest, hitting middle age bothers me not in the slightest - my feeling is that every year that takes me away from being 14 is a really, really good one - and the further the better. I would go…
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