This is 40

I turned 40 last month and have been thinking a lot about what it means to have crossed that terrifying boundary into the second half of life. To have waved goodbye to my youth and vitality. To embrace the reality that I am, as the kids would say, cooked.1And then yesterday I spent three hours picking up a dining room table and chairs that my wife bought at an online auction. It wouldn't all fit in my minivan so I borrowed a trailer from work. I asked a friend to help out. He said no so I did it myself. I woke up this morning a little sore and a lot tired. There was a heat advisory yesterday and it really took it out of me. And that's 40. When we were in our early 20s my wife and I bought our first house and had what seemed like 100 friends over to help us strip wallpaper, do some plumbing, install new countertops, and get all our stuff moved in over the course of three days. What we bought for the house was exciting. The support of friends was amazing. And I'd wake up the morning after 10 straight hours of work feeling fresh as a daisy. Obama was the president. Life was good. The problem with 40 isn'tbeing 40. Honestly, this stage of life is kind of nice! The kids are more self sufficient and the bank account has a little more breathing room, and sure society is collapsing but at least my retirement fund is looking okay! Being 40 isn't the problem, it's that I remember being 25 — when meeting new people was easy and I didn't have to pretend to be interested in how many pitches a 13-year-old has thrown because it's the only conversation available at theweekend baseball tournament. When I didn't feel like I needed to stretch before taking a walk because 'my knee has been feeling a little wonky lately.' ------------------------- My wife and I sometimes talk about how Millennials have anindefatigable hopefulness.2We watched 9/11 happen on those little TV carts in school and went to college and entered the job market in the middle of a recession and waited for Boomers todieage out of leadership positions, but somehow we kept on believing the best was yet to come. We were all like 'Heck yeah, John Mayer, wearejust waiting on the world to change!' I think I'm still hopeful — at least IhopeI am — but it's taking a different shape as I enter my fourth decade. At 25 I thought my generation would be the catalyst for making the world better, but at 40 I think it's my kids who have the best shot. At 25 I was confident that the arc of history naturally bends toward justice, but at 40 I'm realizing it takes a whole lot of effort to bend it away from rich a-holes who want to destroy the world. At 25 I thought John Mayer was just an epic guitar player, but at 40 my wife has informed me we hate him because of what he did to Jessica Simpson.3 I guess what I'm saying is I understand that my friend was juggling work and school pickup and couldn't help with the table. I'm thankful that I have a reliable vehicle and a stable job. I'm glad I'm healthy enough to load a table and chairs myself even if I might need to see the chiropractor later. Heck, I'm even glad my wife found this table that I'm sitting at right now writing. She's been looking for literalyearsfor a table like this and she likes this one and I'm happy when she's happy. I'll never again be as pollyanna or energetic as I was at 25 and I'm okay with that. They say youth is wasted on the young but I think that's stupid. Young people shouldn't have to know their limits or be beaten over the head with reality. They're supposed to believe anything is possible because then they act like anything is possible and do things that seem impossible. It's because of the 25-year-old me's optimism and energy that I have family and friends and a full life for my 40s. And if that doesn't give me hope for my 60s, nothing can. Jonny:Wendell Berry died last week which makes me sad. I have to admit — I like theideaof Wendell Berry more than I ever actually engaged with his work? I feel like I've started a whole bunch of his books but haven't finished any. And that's on me not on him! That said, I enjoyed thisshort and simple Substackand I wanted to give a shoutout to my wife's favorite poemThe Peace of Wild Things. Jeremy:RIP Wendell. I've only read a couple of his books, but his ideas and philosophy have really stuck with me. I haven't actually read any of his poetry, but I've read a lot of Mary Oliver, who I think has a really similar vibe in an even more compassionate package.'Wild Geese,'for example, feels like a breath of fresh air in our judgy modern world. Those two writers give me confidence in finding enjoyment and fulfillment in the small things . . . more on that later. Jonny:For any lovers of basketballorgood journalism, you need to listen tothis episode ofPablo Torre Finds Out— the conclusion of a yearlong NBA salary cap saga. Now I get it, the words 'yearlong NBA salary cap saga' don'tsoundinteresting, but the story has everything: billionaires behaving badly, ponzi schemes, family drama, and a red-string-murder-board level conspiracy. The whole thing is the gift that keeps on giving. Jeremy:Bro, I have been fully checked out on sports all summer. And I gotta say, it's been really nice. I haven't listened to any of the pods or watched anything taking place on a court or field. I am, however, really excited for the upcoming NBA season, if for no other reason than to check out my new-look Wolves — as well as all the other faces in new places. Only about ~40 days to go! (I'm probably supposed to be excited for the MLB postseason and the NFL season, which starts this week, but I'm pretty 'meh' on both.) Jonny:I have to admit, Jeremy, I can feel my brain slowly deteriorating these days. I can't tell if it's a me problem (not enough quiet time, bad sleep, etc.) or if the whole world just seems more boring? Like we're so caught up inBIG PICTURE WORLD ENDING ISSUESthat there's no space for weird little joys? Does what I'm trying to say here make any sense at all?? Jeremy:I think I know what you mean, but I actually wonder if we're more tired simply because we're more aware of the possibilities of life. Think about how tired the generation or two or three before us must have been just trying to exist, let alone pursue hobbies and side hustles and existential fulfillment. And now we're aware ofeverything.A million hobbies we could pick up, places we could travel, things we could learn, ways we could supposedly improve ourselves. And social media adds another layer — we're aware of every conflict, political crisis, injustice, and natural disaster (plus every random dad's cool remodeling project). It's so much to carry around in our brains and souls. I actually feel more content as I approach 40. Some of it is definitely related to spending less time on the internet than I ever have — but also, I don't care nearly as much about other people's opinions and I'm more confident in the little things that bring me joy: a good cup of coffee on the deck, a hike in the woods, reading a book. I'm definitely tired, but there's a sense of meaning to it because I'm in the midst of raising three great kids who bring me more happiness and fulfillment than anything else right now. Maybe part of it is just realizing you can't do everything, and you can't care about everything. And weirdly, there's a lot of freedom in that. (Hat tip to Oliver Burkeman'sFour Thousand Weeks— I read it a long time ago and think about it often. We all only get about 4,000 weeks on this planet.) I don't think the world is necessarily more boring or terrible or cataclysmic than it used to be. We're just drowning in so muchpossibilitythat we've forgotten how satisfying a small, contented life can be. Sorry to go all self-help on you, Jonny, but I couldn't help it! I'm deeply interested in this topic, though, and there's even a sense I have that we come to believe the things we consume — and the internet is chock-full of tired millennials. Life is hard, for sure, but also, in the words of Mary Oliver: 'Still, what I want in my lifeis to be willingto be dazzled—to cast aside the weight of facts and maybe evento float a littleabove this difficult world.' We gotta find a way to float above, man. Jonny:I forgive you for going self-help on me—honestly I appreciate the perspective shift! I like the idea of a 'small, contented life' and I hope that's what 40 looks like for me! Share If you've made it this far, kudos! Thanks for subscribing and if you enjoy this little newsletter-with-no-point share it with someone else who might like it! Until next time, be good to each other and remember… Do the kids still say this? I have no idea. I'm 40. Jeremy has (correctly) noted that we also might be the whiniest generation. But still hopeful! When my wife read this line she added'and Taylor Swift!!'