A Pirate Looks at Fifty

 

That’s me (bottom) and my older brother, Jeff, playing “pirates” on the back porch of the house we grew up in in rural Northwest Ohio. If I had to guess, I’d say it was around 1974 — the same year Jimmy Buffett released one of his most enduring songs, “A Pirate Looks at Forty.”

 

Mother, mother ocean, I’ve heard you call
‘Wanted to sail upon your waters
Since I was three feet tall
You’ve seen it all, you’ve seen it all

I should acknowledge up front that I was never really a pirate at heart — even back in the days when it was still okay to point a toy gun at one’s brother’s head. I never wanted to rob or plunder or kill. But I did love the adventure side of what pirate life seemed to represent: open seas, undiscovered islands, buried treasures. It was a world without bedtimes or baths or mandatory teeth brushings; where it was always summer, and a kid could let his bare feet squish and stomp and slosh through mud and sand until his heart was fully content. It was Neverland, a place of endless action and adventure, without rules and restraints and systems and structures. A life of dreams and possibilities.

Watch the men who rode you
Switch from sails to steam
And in your belly you hold the treasure
that few have ever seen, most of them dreams,
Most of them dreams

Later this year, I’ll turn fifty. It’s a hell of a number, really, and one that’s caused me to reflect back on the first half century of my life. And looking back, I can say I’ve probably had a fair share of adventures along the way. But with each passing year, they seem to become more distant, at least those of the “pirate” variety. And I can’t avoid the knowledge, too, that I’ve passed on a good many more than I ever actually embarked upon, choosing instead a safer, more steady course — one of structured responsibility and security. This was a choice — a long series of choices, really — and one that I alone own. And I can honestly say I don’t regret it.

Yes, I am a pirate two hundred years too late
Cannons don’t thunder there’s nothin’ to plunder
I’m an over forty victim of fate
Arriving too late, arriving too late

Still, it’s hard not to think back now and again on those choices I didn’t make — the adventures never embarked upon, the opportunities never seized, the roads not taken. Moreover, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes feel squeezed by the predictable routines, tight structures, and endless responsibilities that come with the life I’ve chosen. It’s a life — however rich and rewarding in other ways — so different from that which I imagined as a boy, that it sometimes makes me unrecognizable to myself, or at least that old part of myself that still exists in some fashion.

But I’ve done a bit of smugglin’
I’ve run my share of grass
I Made enough money to buy Miami
But I pissed it away so fast
Never meant to last
Never meant to last

This isn’t a midlife crisis, or at least I don’t think it’s one. It’s more of a reflection, a taking of inventory, if you will, in advance of a milestone birthday. I’m not unhappy with the life I’ve chosen, for it has truly been blessed in many ways. The road I’ve taken has been a good one, even if it more closely resembles a wide suburban street than a winding mountain road.

And I have been drunk now for over two weeks
I Passed out and I rallied and I sprung a few leaks
But I’ve got to stop wishin’, got to go fishin’
Down to rock bottom again.
Just a few friends
Just a few friends

Maybe this is, to some extent, a guy thing.* We men like to think of ourselves as sports cars, capable of navigating hairpin curves at high speeds, or perhaps old Land Rovers, able to navigate steep and rocky terrain. That we may in fact be a light blue Dodge Caravan is difficult to swallow. As a kid back in the ’70’s, we all wanted to be the Fonz — to ride motorcycles and jump sharks on waterskis and get all the girls. Nobody dreamed of being Howard Cunningham, stalwart citizen, hardware store owner, and member of the local Leopard Lodge No. 462.

I go for younger women, lived with several awhile
Though I ran them away, they come back one day
And still could manage a smile
It just takes awhile, just takes awhile

But there’s an upside to fifty, too — and it’s a big one, I think, if I can ever fully grasp and embrace it. It’s a hard-earned, creeping perspective — perhaps even (dare I say) something approaching the onset of wisdom. It’s a recognition that a guy can miss a lot while swinging through the jungle on a vine: the wild mushrooms and berries on the forest floor, the sounds of the creek, the blooming flowers, the colors of the sky. And that these are, at minimum, equal treasures, and in many ways, better than even the high speed thrill of chasing mythical pots of gold. And, that a lot of what people chase is fool’s gold anyway — that the real treasures in life exist in the here and now, in what is right before us, not in some wistful past or imaginary future, just beyond our reach.

Mother, mother ocean, after all my years I’ve found
Occupational hazard be my occupations just not around
Feel like I’ve drowned, ‘gonna head uptown
Feel like I’ve drowned, ‘gonna head uptown

This isn’t a resignation to a life without adventure. There is a place for adventure in this life, even as we age — a place for for spontaneity and surprise and unstructured play. Denying this side of ourselves — denying how we want to live and engage with life — can have disastrous consequences. It can dull your spirit and dampen your soul. Taken too far, it can ruin your marriage and turn you into a drunk. Life is a balance. There is a time to jump naked into a lake, and a time to sit in a cozy adirondack chair listening to the water lap gently on the shore. And yes, there is a time, too, to scrape the mud off our shoes and go make dinner.

Finding this balance has always been a bit of a challenge for me, and I know I’m not alone. But I look forward to achieving it in the second half of life, and for the peace that I suspect comes along with it, dropping slow, as Yeats might suggest, from the “veils of the morning to where the cricket sings.” I wish this peace for all of you, as well.

Thanks for reading 🙂 – T

Jimmy Buffet: A Pirate Looks at Forty:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PH_–7tDKQ0

* But I also know this is far from solely a “guy thing.” Here’s another great tune that came to mind as I wrote this that (even if written by a man), speaks well to this, I think. I hope you’ll enjoy it :):