“There is not one blade of grass, there is no color in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice.”- John Calvin.

Tomorrow is my birthday, I will be 71 years old, born in the Lying Inn Hospital in Providence, R.I., to Eve Katz, my father was at home when I was born, he had absolutely no desire to be there, as was often he custom then.

The men waited outside, or at home, and swept in grandly when the bleeding was over. I guess that set the tone for much of my life. It is a new world.

I was the last child my parents had, and I never imagined being 71 years old, when I was young, the idea of being so old was really unthinkable. And I never thought I would live this long, my life was so filled with confusion and pain.

Here I am, I am a tough son of a bitch, as my friend Ed Gulley would say, I lasted this long and am still standing and full of myself and busier and happier than ever before. Isn’t that a kick in the ass? Crisis and mystery is just around the corner?

My blog here is my voice, and it has given me strength and direction. Maria is my life, my center.

I am married to an extraordinary person, and our relationship has given me a new lease on life, one I will not waste this time.

I saw this old barn the other day and went to say hello, you and me, I said, we are still on our feet and plan to be around for a while. The barn was like an old friend, battered a bit but quite proud.

It is true that you get wiser as you get older, and it is also true it is usually too late to do all that much good. The future does not belong to me. But I will use what I have learned and share my life.

Old men  have no business being in charge, or telling other people what to do, they are too tired and cranky, their spirits too wary and reflective. You can know too much as well as too little.

I do not fight for power,  I am happy to get out-of-the-way for the next generation. We made something of a mess of things, as most generations do.

My birthday is not a huge big deal, but it matters getting to 71 largely intact and with all of the parts I was born with, unless you count hair. I feel about 35 and I don’t do old talk or exercise in gyms, which I think helps to keep me alive.

The biggest change in my life is that I know when to speak and when to shut up and I sometimes need naps. Tomorrow, we are setting off after lunch for one of those sleazy motels Maria loves near Williamstown, Mass.

We will visit the Clark Museum, get Indian food for dinner, go see a play at the Williamstown Theater  Festival, get breakfast at a funky yellow diner Thursday morning, come home early and get to work.

I realize that these are all things Maria very much loves to do (except the theater, which is what I really love to do) but isn’t that the point? I love doing what she loves to do, that is what makes a great birthday for me. I just learned that a few years ago.

Maria has reminded me that making love is the breath of life, and I hope to do some of that, it gives me a sweet and lasting glow, and reminds me that age is what you make of it, not what other people make of it.In those special moments, I am 21.

The impending death of my friend Ed  reminds me to make good use of my time, and live fully every day as long as I can and as well as I can. Life happens every day, and one day in the not too distant future it will happen to me.

My dread is that I will have life a meaningless life, full of regrets. It’s not going to happen.

I like Maya Angelou’s idea of celebrations, it keeps me from dismissing the birthday as just another day for corporations to make more money.

“Let gratitude be the pillow upon which you need to say your nightly prayer,” she wrote. “And let faith be the bridge you build to overcome evil and welcome good.”

I vow once again on this birthday to not spend a day of my life mourning what is lost, lamenting what I missed, regretting the poor choices I made, writing angry messages to strangers,  or envying a single human anything they have.

Next month, we get another dog, tomorrow I write on my blog and take photos and love my wonderful wife and see a play. Later this week, Red and I see some Mansion residents and help some more refugees. Friday, I will call a bingo came and sing out the numbers.

Can life really get any better than that?

Like John Calvin said:

“There is not one blade of grass, there is no color in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice.”

So I’ll do it.