MILESTONES

I was just a boy and it was dark and the block from Avenue B to Avenue A seemed endless. Walking slowly towards our apartment at the corner I didn't feel scared, just thoughtful. I thought about what I wanted. What I wanted was to be older.

I wanted to have as many years as I had fingers on my hands. I thought it would be great to be 10!

Shortly before making it to 10, I sat in my dentist's chair and listened to the Dodgers beat the White Sox to clinch the World Series in 6 games. A painful yet happy day for me that I well remember, recall, in fact, far better than the day I reached double figures, which I don't recollect at all. I do, however, recall what I felt a short time late: Disappointment. Being 10 wasn't enough. I needed a year with a "teen" at the end of it. I wanted to be a teenager.

I wanted to be 13. That milestone, of course, would come with another...my bar mitzvah. That was a hard thing to study for; I feared embarrassing myself in front of everyone. Preparing for it was surely the toughest thing I'd done to that point. Good thing I did, because, while I can't remember my 13th birthday at all, I sure remember the big ceremony 10 days later.

It was raining really hard in the morning and, as it was ending, the rabbi said I'd become a man. That was silly. I knew I hadn't. Would a man's legs have been shaking so uncontrollably as mine had when singing my hav Torah? Certainly not. Nevertheless, I hadn't screwed it up so thank goodness for my studying. That was fairly manly, I guess. And, I did 1 other manly thing. Early that morning, at the urging and with the help of my dad, I'd shaved for the first time! Though no hair or stubble had been removed...or was initially present...from my face, it was still quite a manly act! So today I was sort of a man!!

In a few years I'd reached the milestones of moving away from home, attending college and earning the first "D" in my life. Approaching 18 in my sophomore year, my friend Diane wished to take me out drinking to celebrate my legality. Unlike the rest of my family (and certainly to the great confusion of my father who seemed to like most other things about me), I didn't actually enjoy drinking. My preference was to stay in the dorm and watch the hockey game. Diane, sadly, was not a hockey fan. Happily, however, we did no drinking that night.

College continued in my 21st year, as did the war in Vietnam. Things were starting to get a little more difficult. Facing my final semester at Stony Brook, I was student teaching at a nearby high school. I had to survive those classes, graduate and then decide how I wanted to handle career and my low draft number.

Near my 21st birthday, I taught a history class that was observed by both my cooperating teacher at the high school and my supervisor from Stony Brook. The class went very well. At it's conclusion, the students REALLY seemed to understand why Washington didn't want the U.S. to get into any foreign "entangling alliances." In fact, the class went too well. It had concluded 15 minutes before it was scheduled to officially end. What to do with all that additional time. Perhaps my choice of sitting there silently, thinking of the horrible things my cooperating and supervising teachers were about to say, was not the best way?

They liked the class. They advised me of what to do with extra time. They thought I could be a good teacher. Soon I graduated. Eventually I convinced my draft board that perhaps I could serve the country better not in the army. Twenty one turned out a good year...just can't recall the big celebration.

Soon 30 was approaching. This seemed strange. Thirty is not young (ask me if I still feel this way!), and I'd often heard that no one over 30 could be trusted. Frankly that seemed silly to me. On my 30th birthday I wrote myself a note which I still have. It read: "Already?" That morning I went to my grandmother's apartment on Avenue A to pick up some food she'd cooked for me. While there I looked out the window at the kids going into my old elementary school, PS 63. Many of them had once looked so formidable to me. Now they looked like children. I had, indeed, become older!

At 40 my family held a party. My Uncle Billy congratulated me, gave me $100 and observed: "Life begins at 40." Grateful for that encouragement, I looked up from the money and saw that he was smiling and rolling his eyes...not so encouraging! But, in fact, he was right, as I'd just finished therapy school and had begun my practice as a psychotherapist. As I was now finally doing work that I really enjoyed, life had, indeed, just begun!

As 50 approached, however, I was getting a bit tired of aging. I decided NOT to think at all about this milestone but instead concentrate only on the New York Marathon for which I'd registered for the first time and was scheduled 2 days after my Halloween Birthday. It all was going well till a series of calf injuries limited my training. I showed up at the starting line anyways and did my best, but that only got me to mile 17 where I staggered off the course. The next year, however, I tried again and made it to the glorious finish line. I'd now ALWAYS be a marathon finisher! My second half century took a while but was now off to a promising start.

And now my 65th approaches. Three weeks ago I had surgery and that requires that I now take it easy. I thought then that a great goal for the big day would be to do my first post surgery run then. However I've been recovering well and yesterday my surgeon said go ahead and start working out. So today I did 30 minutes on the elliptical. Not too tough, but makes me think that I can run before we get to October 31. So now I'm revising the milestone. Come Halloween I plan on running 65 miles...not that fast, of course...1 mile for each of my years....

Just kidding. I'm a kidder! Maybe I'll aim for 5 or 6 miles, to commemorate either the second or first digit of my new age. That should get things off to a good start!!