43!

43!

Yes, my friend, it has happened. June 9th, 2023 came and went. And now I am 43 years old. This is a big number. 43 is larger than 33. Which is larger than 23. Which is larger than 13. That’s math, people.

How is 43 different than 33, 23, and 13? Unlike my son Solomon who is something of a child prodigy, I’m no mathematician. Still, I’m told that the answer to my question has something to do with the tens place.

It’s June as I’m writing this blog. Iowa is aglow with sunshine. My children finished school. I’m on summer break. I’ve got a little space. So far 43 feels good. But that might just be the euphoria that comes with the beginning of any summer vacation.

No, I’ve never made much in the way of money. And being an educator has been hard work. Working with teenagers is a whirlwind. And being a professor is an endless journey through a labyrinth. Say what you want about my career path, but the buzz that comes at the end of the year still can’t be beat.

It’s June. The sun is shining. I’m 43. The summer lay before me.

***

The summer of 2023. What have I accomplished so far? I’ve tried to be slovenly. Idle. Loafing. Shiftless. As much as I can be.

I’m doing my best to stay away from email. To avoid thinking about my classes next fall. Trying to turn my head from programmatic work. From service. From academic writing. From leading improv workshops. It’s hard for me not to spend my time doing these things. And I’m still doing these things. But I’m trying to look in different directions.

Solomon and I went for a walk near Lake McBride a few weeks ago. Solomon likes to set unreasonable hiking challenges.

“Let’s walk eight miles, Dad!”

“It’s starting to get late,” I say.

Samson and I have been playing football in the backyard. Samson thinks he’s going to be an NFL quarterback. I remind him that his father is 5’4”. Samson’s undaunted. Doug Flutie was short. Maybe he’ll make it.

Katie and I have been walking to coffee shops. And staying up late watching horrifying reality television. Nobody should ever watch Married at First Sight. Ever.

Mostly, Link has been providing a welcome distraction. Of course I’m writing about The Legend of Zelda. Tears of the Kingdom. The sequel to Breath of the Wild. Two of the best video games I’ve ever played. Masterpieces. Gorgeous.

I bought a new Switch just to played Tears of the Kingdom. I’ve told Solomon and Samson they aren’t allowed to play with this Switch until I beat Tears of the Kingdom. Which I hope takes a long time. I want to savor this game. Escape to Hyrule. Leave Iowa City for awhile. That’s high on my list of things to do right now.

***

This summer will go fast. Just like all summers go fast. Just like everything goes fast.

I blinked and then I was 43. I still feel 33, 23, and even 13. Not 3.

Those 4 ages feels like 4 very different people.

13 year-old Sam. Outcast. Long hair. Metallica shirts. The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past.

23 year-old Sam. English major. Short hair. Sweaters and button-up shirts. The Legend of Zelda. Both Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask.

33 year-old Sam. High school teacher and PhD student. Hair still shirt. Sweater vests and ties. The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess.

43 year-old Sam. College professor. Less hair. Still wearing sweater vests. The Legend of Zelda again. Still collecting hearts and figuring out puzzles.

It’s funny to measure my life by a video game. But I can’t deny the lasting aesthetic glory of the series. All the games mentioned above blew me away when I first played them. Even the original game. When I was seven. Dad bought me the game in the ancient days before the tens place existed. I’ll never forget when my sister and her friend deleted the quest I’d been playing for months one night. I was devastated.

It moves fast. And I’ll do my best to be present this summer. At 43. To enjoy the sunshine. The welcome space of another summer break.