A Pirate Looks at Forty (or Fifty-Five) Still Looking For Answers He’s Never Found

I wake up each day grateful for what I have and ready for the next challenge, but I hope the next decade takes it a little easier on me. That is all.

I’m not sure why, but I’ve always loved the Jimmy Buffett’s songs, “A Pirate Looks at Forty” and “He Went To Paris.” There is something about reflecting on your life in the songs that made me stop and think about my own life. Both songs popped into my head on a recent solo seventeen-hour drive from Dallas, Texas, to Dublin, Ohio. Ten years ago today as my dad was dying of cirrhosis caused by morbid obesity, I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like him. He lived a few days longer than his dad who had also died of cirrhosis, with his being caused by alcoholism. My dad died just after his seventy-second birthday.

On that day ten years ago, I committed to working out every day except when on vacation and to changing my relationship with food. To my surprise, working out every day was an easier action than changing how I dealt with food. You see, I LOVE food. The worse it is for you, the more I like it. When I saw something I liked, I ate as much of it as I wanted. Because I was fairly active for most of my life, I didn’t really put on much weight. As I approached forty, however, my metabolism decided to shift down a gear or two. As a result, I had reached the highest weight I had ever been just as my dad was facing his last two months of life. Something had to change or I’d add five-to-ten pounds a year then blink at seventy weighing as much as he did.

Ten years later, I am mostly happy to report that I’ve kept my weight within a healthy range—though I am working to drop five-to-eight pounds over the next month or two, as my metabolism again dropped down a notch. I still struggle every day with making good food choices. Since I made that promise, 3,650 days have passed. How’d I do by the numbers (I am a numbers guy)? Well, since I tracked my numbers every day (data junkie), here is what I did: I worked out on 3,379 days, which included running five miles, riding nearly sixteen miles, or rowing 3.5 miles, as well as doing five hundred crunches or upper body weights (working up to curling 35 lbs on each arm fifty times, doing tricep reps with 35 lbs thirty times on each arm, and doing sixty pushups). On days I worked out, I also walked at least five miles throughout the day. I didn’t workout on 271 days. On those days, I walked 1,823.5 miles, averaging 6.73 miles of walking per day, as I was usually somewhere on vacation. My single longest day totaled 16.8 miles. That means I averaged 338 days of workouts per year, with just 27 days “off.” I also managed to summit a 14er (14,278 foot mountain) out in Colorado at the age of forty-seven and ran a 5K at forty-eight in 23:20.9 minutes, with 7:29 splits. In the last year, I averaged 12,301 steps per day, or 5.7 miles of walking.

Not a bad ten years, right?

That was the easy part. Now, let’s get to the other stuff, which isn’t so good. I’m not going to Fakebook you by telling you the last ten years have been amazing. Far from it. There is nothing worse than Facebook profiles in which “I’m good. My kids are amazing. My spouse is perfect. And my job is the best.” It’s all bullshit. Life isn’t that clean, unfortunately. Obviously, if you read this column, you know that I think Ohio has become a dead state walking over the last ten years, but the below material is about me personally, so read on only if you want the ugly stuff.

Back to Buffett’s songs. Here are the verses from those songs I really love:

Yes, I am a pirate, two hundred years too late

The cannons don’t thunder, there’s nothin’ to plunder

I’m an over-40 victim of fate

Arriving too late, arriving too late

and

And all of the answers and all of the questions

He locked in his attic one day

‘Cause he liked the quiet, clean country living

And 20 more years slipped away

Well, the war took his baby, the bombs killed his lady

And left him with only one eye

His body was battered, his world was shattered

And all he could do was just cry

While the tears were falling, he was recalling

Answers he never found

So he hopped on a freighter, skidded the ocean

And left England without a sound

At fifty-five, these verses explain how I feel today. When I think about the last decade, I feel tired and somewhat defeated even though I know I am beyond fortunate and far better off than 99% of the rest of the world.

Here is how it played out: In September 2016, my dad died. A month later, my ties to Washington, D.C., and having national relevance, including a job in Trump Term 1, were cut due to family obligations. A few months later, my marriage started having “troubles.” In October 2017, my marriage and family exploded spectacularly. I spent the next five years trying to keep my head above water as I fought one of Ohio’s nastiest, longest, and most expensive divorces that nearly bankrupted me; saw the judge do all she could to screw me (thank God for the court of appeals); and strained my physical, emotional, and mental health beyond what I thought they were capable of. I also watched as my kids suffered enormous collateral damage. Yes, the two oldest graduated from high school, then college and are now functioning, working adults, but the scars they carry run deep. I have no real relationship with either of them. After a long period of soul-searching, I disconnected from lots of people who were in my life because the relationships with them had become one way in which I did lots for them, getting little in return. I pursued my dream of running for public office only to realize you starfuckers only care about who you see on Fox News and that money really does drive politics no matter how good your ideas are. Finally, after spending nearly eight years searching, I found who I thought was going to be the rest of my life, only for that relationship to fall apart after a couple of years just when I thought it was going to be forever. And, to boot, my dream of being a rancher out West, like the song above, now feels like I’ll simply arrive too late. Legally, I can’t do anything until my youngest heads off to college, which will put me at fifty-eight. Ranching at fifty-eight sounds too much. Hell, I can barely cut the grass in the heat we are having:-)

Here are a few hard lessons I’ve learned along the way:

• If I look at desserts, I’ll gain three pounds by osmosis;

• Everyone and anyone is capable of doing bad things—don’t assume only a certain kind of people lie, cheat, and steal;

• Paying it forward rarely happens in real life—people only do it when they can promote what they did on social media;

• Food is as addictive as alcohol, drugs, and gambling, but our health care system doesn’t treat it like those vices;

• Doing the right thing sometimes doesn’t have a payoff or upside—you could still be holding an empty bag, so do it without expecting any reward;

• If you give people something for free, they will take it for free—freeriders, even among those with wealth, are everywhere;

• Don’t sacrifice for others unless you are willing for them to still kick you in the mouth—it turns out memories can be very short;

• Karma and cosmic justice, sadly, don’t exist—sometimes bad people get away with doing bad things and good people sometimes don’t get what they deserve;

• Nothing good ever comes from drinking alcohol (or doing drugs or smoking), so touch it infrequently at most—look, no one has ever said, “My life got so much better after drinking alcohol”—no, alcohol isn’t an issue for me, but it is for others I know;

• At the end of the day, family boils down to biology—if it is more than that, then you are lucky; and

• Forbearance is one of the most vital skills you can learn in life, as the temptation to hit back, get even, or respond can be Jesus-in-the-desert-with-the-Devil level tempting at times.

I wish I didn’t have to learn all of these lessons over one decade, but that is the way the cookie crumbles apparently. At least it did for me.

Now, let me take a minute to put a positive spin on the last decade. I also learned that real friends are amazing to have. The people who I thought would be with me through the worst of times turned out to be fickle, whereas some of the people I thought wouldn’t spare a minute for me ended up sparing hours and hours for me. Figure out who those people are and treat them like kings and queens, as you will need them someday. I also learned to find silver linings during the most trying times. For example, having to clear out of my house every other day for six months during the beginning of my divorce allowed me to spend more time with my mom and have conversations with her I never would have had otherwise. I don’t know about her, but I’m better off because of those moments. Though I’m feeling down right now due to recent events, I can’t tell you how happy I have been and remain that I didn’t have to spend another day with my ex-wife after I asked her to leave. Being alone has been so much better than living with her. Sorry my religious friends, but hanging in mediocre or unhappy marriages is overrated. I know so many couples who remain married, making themselves and their kids miserable. I wish I would have ended it years earlier, so I had more of a chance of meeting someone when my kids were young who could have shown my kids what a happy, healthy relationship looks like instead of what they saw every day. It also is true that bullies must be met with equal or greater force and surrender should never be an option. Believe it or not, Donald Trump taught me the first lesson (sorry, lefties, not as you imagine in which he is the bully, but the opposite) and Winston Churchill the second lesson. Compromise is important, but when it is time to fight, you just have to fight with the full force of what you have in you in a no holds barred manner (I wish Trump would see that vis-a-vis Iran).

So, to sum things up: I’m physically healthy as a horse (as least that is what the medical tests all show), financially secure for the rest of my life (turns out I’m really good at investing wisely), and have an amazing relationship with my teenage son, but I’ll be licking the emotional and mental wounds of the last decade for years to come. Like the song above, I feel “battered, [my] world was shattered. And all [I] could do was just cry.” Don’t get me wrong, I wake up each day grateful for what I have and ready for the next challenge. For whatever reason, depression just isn’t something that hits me. All I am saying is the last decade has been a tough one. One I want to forget. I’m still searching for answers to many questions. But, I’ve come through it worn like hell on the edges and bruised to the bone, but all-in-all stronger for, as Friedrich Nietzsche said in 1888, what doesn’t kill you does in fact make you stronger (no, millennials and Gen Zers, that wasn’t coined by Health Ledger as The Joker in 2009). I hope the next decade takes it a little easier on me. That is all.

Lastly, for any of you reading this who struggle with weight or are battling through tough times, please take away from this missive that:

• If you want to make changes, you can no matter how hard it might be;

• You are in fact strong enough to take whatever shit life throws at you; and

• Celebrate the silver linings, especially in the darkest times, as they are there if you look for them.

Ok, enough navel gazing on my birthday (and, technically, America’s real birthday, too). Go out and have a great Fourth of July celebrating America and its 250th birthday!!!

P.S. A quick word on the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision upholding birthright citizenship. If you think a constitutional amendment has any chance, you are delusional. You should re-read my May column, “My Immigration Reform Proposal from 2016 Was the Path Forward. Unfortunately, It Isn’t Now, Which Means Immigration Will Remain a Divisive Issue In America For Decades.” Just look at the response of pundits on the Left. They want open borders and government dependent illegal immigrants to come here and have anchor babies who they can add to their voter rolls. It is just that simple. I’ll have more to say later, but the decision just might be the beginning of the end for America. Thanks, John Roberts.