Thoughts on Turning Thirty

I turned thirty years old yesterday. The day itself passed rather unremarkably, but my friends and wife threw me a nice surprise party two weekends back and I had lunch with my family on Sunday and visited my in-laws on Monday. Mostly what I got was lawn furniture. How’s that for a sign of aging?

The age doesn’t really bother me. I’ve got a few gray hairs, but I still look pretty good and I don’t exactly feel as though my life has peaked. At least it better not have. Just last week I got carded at a bar when ordering my drink. The bartender said, “Oh my god, you look so young!” And she was probably only in her mid-20s.

But I have now officially live a little while. I have a proper amount of experiences to draw upon. I ruminated today about whether or not a person is the sum of their experiences or if they are the same person as they day they were born. Nature or nurture? On the one had you have the existentialist argument that says all life is random, we all affect one another in ways we both intend and don’t intend to. On the other hand you have the Calvinist dogma of life in pre-destination.

The answer, if there is one, is likely somewhere in the middle. When I really think about it I favor that I am the sum of my experiences. My relationship with my wife has much to do with my relationship with other women in my life—my old girlfriend, my sister, and of course my mother. I believe I am a good husband because of what I was taught and observed in my other relationships.

At the same time I know that my personality is not remarkably different from when I was a child. If you factor out changes in personal taste and education the comparison is that much closer. (Although I may be the ultimate American for saying this, but I do think one can sometimes be defined by their choice in possessions. I am a marketer’s dream!) When I was a child I always wanted to please people. I’m the same way today. I’ve always had moderately poor self-esteem. My ego has always been large and fragile.

What I want most is to be the sum of my experiences. If my life’s purpose is to be a cog in a machine than that doesn’t seem appealing to me. I think that is why I’ve have largely come to reject religion. (I don’t know if I’ve ever admitted that before, the bluntness of the statement might make it false.) I want to believe that I can make something of my life and have an impact that is of my own creation.

Thirty years into it I think I’ve done okay. I’ve got a wonderful marriage to a beautiful and talented wife. I’ve got good friends and my career isn’t so bad when I take a couple of steps back and look at it. Not a bad position to be in, indeed.