Saturday, December 12, 2015

What it Means to be 45


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.

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