Happy 40th Birthday to my nephew G.A.B.! His has been a circuitous journey. As I told him last night, life does not begin at 40. Life begins at 65, when one is blissfully retired, has annuity, a cafe that is being rented, an art studio, an informal antique shop, and, hopefully soon, a dormitory for call center employees.
At 40 you are compelled to work harder than anyone else--harder than the seniors, who are already established, and harder than the juniors, who are always trying to do one over you. (Maybe that's what the saying "Life begins at 40" really means.)
At 65 you can rest on your laurels. You can do anything you want and relax. Then, finally, everything makes sense: Why earn more laurels when one has only one head?
At 40 you are compelled to work harder than anyone else--harder than the seniors, who are already established, and harder than the juniors, who are always trying to do one over you. (Maybe that's what the saying "Life begins at 40" really means.)
At 65 you can rest on your laurels. You can do anything you want and relax. Then, finally, everything makes sense: Why earn more laurels when one has only one head?
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