I know that 47 isn’t a “big” birthday.
However, when I was 43, two people told me on separate occasions that I looked great for 47.
Adding the corresponding years, I must look great for 51. And 51, I shall be.
That means I am one year overdue for that introspective, moribund deconstruction of my life. [Cue: music from triste French films of the 60s and scenes of deep, deep contemplative monosyllabic conversations with long pauses and spectacular sensual exhalation of cigarette smoke.]
Our discussion at Seder this year about free will made me think about choices I have made and wonder about whether they were in fact choices or dictated by my learned responses. Does free will always have the caveat, “to the extent that your upbringing and life experience haven’t made the choice for you”?
That is a big question that I cannot answer tonight.
All I know is that my skin is not as radiant as it was last week. But then again I was 46 last week and this week I will be 51. I think that I just now understand the difference between accrual- and cash-based accounting.