As I get very close to 50, a few things are becoming clear. For one, imagining one’s self as John Wayne, able to protect all loved ones from all bad, is ludicrous. Aspiring to be Robert Young in Father Knows Best is much more realistic.

Second, the rarest pleasure is nothing. Those moments of absolute clarity, where all that is in your head is only what’s right in front of you, are intoxicating and are to be savored, for they are infrequent.

And third — and this one I’ve known for a long time — no matter how hot you think you are, women 30 and below look at you as a nice old guy.

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