Here it is again, my Birthday. I’ll be 72 this Thursday, and Maria is asking me what I’d like to do to celebrate it. I told her I’d like to go to see “Ghosts,” a Henrik Ibsen play starring Una Thurman at the Williamstown Theater Festival, our favorite theater company in the area.

What does it mean to have a birthday, and to be 72? Not all that much, really.

We have tickets for August 7th, the night before my birthday, and I think I’d like to go to Jean’s for an oat bran pancake breakfast on the morning of the 8th. My favorite presents from Maria are things she makes with her own hands, I cherish those.

Wednesday, the 8th, I’ll go visit the gang at Bishop Maginn High School, I have comic books and T-shirts for everybody in the Silverstein Art Brigade. I’ve been invited to the Mansion Thursday afternoon for what I’m told is a party, but which I suspect might be a surprise birthday celebration.

People say that as they get older, they pay less attention to birthdays, but I’ve never gotten excited about birthdays, they seem a little forced to me. And they’re a bit boring as a rule, we won’t be sailing off to the Caribbean for a holiday.

I think I might just buy Maria a present for my birthday, this will make her bonkers.

I’m startled to be this old, I somehow wasn’t sure I’d make it to 72, but I’m feeling strong. I feel like I’m just getting started in life. I never feel old or,  hopefully, think old. But I also know where I am.

It’s an interesting thing about age, when I was younger, I thought of 72 as being unthinkably ancient, but I just don’t feel very old now that I am here. I don’t feel entitled to a lot of birthday hoopla.

After all, everybody in the world has birthdays, it doesn’t require much more than breathing.

I find I am a year younger than the President, I hope I am less grumpy and nasty than him. I don’t tweet, and I gave up cheeseburgers a long time ago.

Age does not need to be a time for retrenchment, there’s no downsizing of my life or retirement, but it does require some more maintenance.

I am well known at the pharmacy, and I have a squadron of physicians keeping an eye on me, not to mention the dentist.

They have taken good care of me

I am slowly getting used to people carrying things for me and holding doors open, although it still surprises me. There are things on the farm I can’t do, and I accept that with as much grace as I can muster. I shovel snow still and haul hay around. I’ve given up climbing on ladders, falling down on my head, or staying out in the hot sun. My heart pills don’t like it.

Our culture tends to define older people, and they often define themselves in ways that don’t appeal to me. I don’t do old talk or speak poorly of my life. And I avoid peers who like to talk about their health or who prattle on about the old days. My current days are a lot better than the old ones.

I have never been happier, busier or more fulfilled.

I am in love and making love, two things I had given up on. Maria is a miracle that has befallen me, and I still don’t understand where she came from or how we ended up together. It has been suggested that she is an angel descended to ground me and enrich my life.

I am sorry for the difficult times we live in, but they have been in many ways a great boon to me, I am awoke, as they say, and my life is full of meaning. Still, I hope to live long enough for better days for everybody.

I think it’s fair to say I was asleep for many years, mired in fear, anger, and delusion. I suppose it’s fair to say I was one of those people who had to nearly destroy my life in order to have my life. Sometimes you do have to hit bottom.

I guess I was reborn.

The only thing I miss about my former life was being a young reporter and also taking care of my daughter Emma, I drove the carpool and took her to lessons and the movies. I always loved taking care of her, something I will never get to do again.

At the same time, I  get to take care of a lot of people now.

Giving rebirth to one’s life does brighten one’s perspective.

I am old enough to know a few things and young enough to use those things to good effect. I am too old to be ambitious or envious or yearn for any life but the one I have. I have, for the first time, everything that I have ever wanted.

I respect and accept life, I don’t have a ton of summers left to live. But like Grandma Moses suggested, my life is what I make of it, and I intend to make a lot of it.

I feel like I’ve found my calling after years of wandering in the desert. Our country and our world are both at a crossroads, and I am making as much of a difference as I have the time and energy and imagination for. I am so lucky to have an Army Of Good behind me.

I have made few concessions to aging, one is that I take a nap in the afternoon two or three days a week, Bud likes to doze with me on my lap. I like that,  Maria says we look alike. Red is always at my feet, bless his noble soul. I now let the UPS guy carry the boxes to the back porch.

I respect my back.

When I think of my lengthening life, I do think of my staggering list of mistakes, but also of the dogs that have marked my passage. Julius and Stanley, Orson, Lenore, Rose, Izzy, Pearl, Frieda, Red, Gus, Fate, Bud. I have been very lucky with dogs, each one has made me a better human being and challenged me to be patient,  forgiving and clear.

Maybe I’ll get there by 73. Time is getting short.

When all is said and done, the best present of any kind that I ever got was Maria, maybe she’ll tie a ribbon around her neck and give herself to me.