By CRAIG EDWARD KELSO
I've lived longer than my mother.
I am officially old enough to know why Mrs. Robinson kicks Hoffman’s scrawny ass out of bed once the deed’s done.
I now understand why Mario Ruoppolo eases into the microphone handed him by Neruda’s character, and answers Bee-ah-treesh-eh RUUssso at the question to name one of the wondrous parts of the small Italian island.
I will never be President of these United States.
I know why John Coltrane can’t be duplicated.
My age means I know it is my duty to open a door for a female; to know socialism is a sham you won’t ever stop embracing; to know why love is an act of worship; to know thirty-five hundred calories equals a pound; to know I can survive anything, any circumstance; to know I am great at lying to myself; to know exactly the moment I start to fail at anything; to know how scary it is to change; to know how to change in important ways; to know how to be a better man.
All my excuses are gone.
And I mean it.
Craig Edward Kelso is a felon, father, husband, controversialist, living in Southern California with his adorable family.