Not my new midnight

Yesterday, the first day of summer 2017, this middle-aged man drove past the neighborhood he lived when a 16-year old kid.  

Driving past the post office that long-ago was a neighborhood grocery store, a memory came to mind of an empty parking lot where, after the store closed, we played tag football games on hot summer nights.     

Another memory came to mind of my friend, at one end of the parking lot, throwing a quarterback “Hail Mary” pass to me at the other end of the parking lot.  The parking lot’s bright lights made those hot summer night tag football games possible.

How often we did this I can’t remember but often enough to give many pleasant youthful memories that’ll forever be mine to enjoy. 

It seemed as if our day had just begun on those hot summer nights.  Bright stars above illuminated in the darkness of the night and spoke to our youthful psyche that the sky was our limit.

And it was.

Fast forward 46 years later and this middle-aged man wonders if anything has changed besides his chronological obvious.

I recently visited an internet retirement discussion forum and stumbled across a discussion topic title catching my attention.  It read, “In my sixties, 9:00 p.m. is the new midnight!”

The author starting this discussion shared how one of the worst things about being older is his energy is gone.  He used to stay up until midnight and not be tired.  Now he feels so tired by 9:00 p.m. and can barely keep his eyes open.  He shared how he’s “crashing” and wondered if that was also the case with others in their sixties.

Others joined the discussion sharing their experiences.  Some shared similar experiences but others shared they were still midnight owl characters.  It made me wonder about which camp I reside.

I’ll need more time to reflect but find inspiration in my youthful memories of those great hot summer night tag football games.  Inspiration that, in my sixties, 9:00 p.m. is not my new midnight.

Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum