21 Summers Isn’t a Countdown. It’s a Wake-Up Call.

Stop saving life for later. You are the special occasion

I turn 57 on June 6th, which means my warranty has officially expired, but somehow I’m still running… just with a few bonus sounds and a longer warm-up time.

Naturally, I did something questionable: I ran the numbers.

Turns out, I’ve got about 21 summers left according to the mortality tables (hopefully many more).

Twenty-one.

Which is… not nothing, but it’s also not “I’ll get to it someday” territory anymore. That’s more like, “maybe don’t spend three of them deciding on a new couch.”

It does something to you, seeing it like that.

I have no interest in getting to the end of this and realizing I lived like I was saving the good towels. You know, waiting for a special occasion while life kept showing up every single day.

No. I am the special occasion now.

So yes, eat better, move more, keep the brain from turning into a dusty attic of forgotten passwords. That’s the baseline, but I’m not chasing maintenance. I’m chasing aliveness. I want to die young… as late as possible.

I want to be the kind of “old” that makes younger people slightly nervous. The kind that still says yes, still shows up, still tries things that might go sideways but make for a great story. Because getting old to me isn’t about candles, it’s about contraction.

It’s when your world slowly shrinks to what’s easy, predictable, and doesn’t require new shoes or a stretch first.

I’m not available for that.

I want conversations that pull something out of me. People who don’t act their age, in the best way. Plans that make me think, “This might be a terrible idea,” and then become the highlight of the year.

Twenty-one summers.

That’s not a countdown. That’s a collection, and I’m grateful I even get to count them.

So here’s the real question, not just for me, but for you:

How many summers do you have left?

More importantly… how are you planning to live them?

Like you’ve got an endless supply, or like each one is a limited-edition run you can’t reorder?

I’ve made my decision.

Use the good towels. Take the trip. Say yes. Stay curious. Keep going.

How about you?