I turned 42 on Saturday. It’s the number of streets in the block number for Times Square and the New York Public Library. Or the meaning of the universe, according to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Still. I think it is important, without ruminating too much, to draw a lesson from the philosophers occasionally and ask ourselves why we bother. Otherwise, it’s a life lived on autopilot. Not the reason our grandparents fought all those wars. Here’s what I’ve come up with as I ruminate on my 42nd birthday. I’d be fascinated to hear your opinions about my own.
Life is about the company you keep. Once a fortnight, my parents host my Uncle Bill for lunch. He’s 99 and a half, and I grew up calling him Uncle, even though he was only our neighbor. He’s approaching the age where he’ll get a congratulatory letter from the Queen. He served in the Royal Air Force during the war, and I bumped into him on the bus once, a few years ago. He had a bad cold but was still off down to the town center to meet his friends for coffee. “I’ve learned that if I don’t go and see them, I’ll die,” he said, in a remarkable display of candor. And I’ve learned that whatever one is doing—and it can be frightful, sometimes, work, and life, too, let’s be honest—the thing that makes it bearable and even nourishing is the people you’re doing it with. If they’re curious and kind and have an appreciation for life’s ironies? Then they make it all worthwhile. They make life livable. And if they’re narcissistic and draining and self-centered? Then you’re always best off out of there. So, I expect to be meeting my friends for coffee when I’m approaching 100, like my “Uncle”, Bill. It’s our relationships that make our lives bearable and interesting. Not our achievements or failures. Those, in fact, are often beside the point. No matter how spectacular or horrific they may be. And I tell people never to underestimate the importance of kindness. You never know what somebody is suffering with and being kind in that moment can make all the difference. Really, it can be life and death. Honestly.
Life is about the joy of and subtleties of language. At school I was lucky enough to have an English teacher who could spend two hours deconstructing a poem. His name was Mr. Halls and he’s retiring as headmaster of King’s College, Wimbledon, next year. He would sit us in front of a piece of writing and deconstruct every single word, punctuation mark. The point was not to belabor things but to show the art that, say, Shakespeare could put into Prospero’s mouth. “We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little lives surrounded by a sleep.” I mean: That’s not boring, is it? That’s about wonder and awe, isn’t it? And that’s what language should be for. When I’m writing I often ask myself, am I aspiring to that? Or am I denigrating things?
Life is a bit like Bake-off. And Bake-off is a bit like the Bible. It’s called The Great British Baking Show here in the U.S., but the point is the same. There are always contestants who seem strong in the early going, but they crumble later. The trick of coming out of the show successful is to remember that you’re going to get in a pickle at some stage. The bake will be impossible, but you’ll need to present something to the judges in the end, regardless. And at that stage, you must have confidence that you are enough. Even if your cake is rubbish. At this point, I pivot to the Bible to make my point. You know, Bake-Off, the Bible. It’s all cut from the same cloth. One of my favorite parables is the one about the uninvited wedding guest. He shows up to the wedding wearing the wrong clothes and he’s cast out into the darkness. There will be “weeping and gnashing of teeth” out there, Jesus said. But those are my people. The ones cast out. The gnashers. Not the ones enjoying the wedding feast. Or as Gregory Porter sings, “take me to the alley,” where the “lonely ones have somehow lost their way.” It’s the most nourishing company out there. And the people to watch out for are the ones policing the guest list. Also, to pivot quickly back to Bake-off? Jurgen is going to win:
— Greg Hewitt (@Greg_Hewitt93) September 21, 2021
So, that’s the meaning of life. And here’s to showing up, regardless. At 42 or whatever age you are.
Quarenta-y-dos.
Quarante-deux.
Adieu!
