Next week I’m doing my annual mini-ski trip with my Peace Corps buddy who lives in Denver. Because the snow hasn’t been that great this year, he wanted to go toWolf Creek since they’ve got the best snow depth in the state (112”-fine with me since it’s less driving for yours truly). This is the essay that I wrote two years ago when we went to Crested Butte.

Word Count: 866

The Glass is Definitely

More than Half-Full

All of us can categorically agree that getting older pretty much sucks. That having been said, and as a counterpoint to the aging statement, I also like to think of myself as being the type of person who always tries to find the silver lining to a very dark storm cloud. When my buddy from Peace Corps-Kenya first proposed that the two of us should meet halfway across the state for a day of downhill skiing (me driving north from Silverton to Crested Butte, him coming south from Denver) to celebrate our respective Birthdays), I twisted my head in bewilderment. When I first read his email, I figured I’d only do this sort of thing in a world where I thoroughly enjoy participating in the most masochistic things I can think of. For all you confused individuals out there (and that’s probably most folks reading this) an explanation is in order.

My birthday happens to fall on “The Day the Music Died” (February 3, 1959) and two Sundays ago I reached the big 6-0 mark. Fast on my heels, my friend hit this ignominious milestone in his own life two weeks ago last Thursday (2/7/19). Both of us will go to our permanent dirt-naps and he continues to mercilessly tease me that he’ll always be four days younger than yours truly. Year in and year out in fact, and since the day we first met way back in July of 1982. For the past thirty-seven years my buddy calls or emails, and he will always point out that my mind is getting closer and closer to full-blown senility. Accompanied of course by heavy drooling all over myself and a steady stream of silent mumbles to all my imaginary friends out there. Not exactly a pleasant thought, but then again, the truth hurts I suppose.

Like me, my buddy happens to be a bit of a walking contradiction. Extremely intelligent as he’s the director of Environmental & Occupational Health at CU-Denver Anschutz Medical Center. Prior to his relocation to the Centennial state, he was a professor at the University of Minnesota-Minneapolis. Other credentials include winning an Outstanding Young Scientist award in 2004, and participation as a Fulbright Scholar in Santiago, Chili in 2006 (Funny how these Fulbright things aren’t handed out like Participation Trophies at Little League T-Ball tournaments). Before I’m forced to come up with a plan to list and market his various other academic achievements as a sure-fire cure for extreme cases of insomnia, let’s look at some of his alternate personality traits.

This is the same individual who’s come up with the David G. Swanson Theory of High Altitude Intelligence. According to the good doctor, my mind operates at a greater plane of intellect the higher in altitude I happen to be venturing. If I lived in the Himalayas, I’d have a hankering (and the corresponding genius) to write a credible PhD Dissertation. Meanwhile, at Sea Level altitudes I’ve been noted to display the personality traits of a slobbering idiot (because of the higher O2 Levels?). Complete with a totally glazed look in my eyes, and oral displays on the level of your average three-year old. He claims to have witnessed me displaying this behavior on a beach in Kenya, but no video-tape evidence exists to substantiate this.

Is this theory credible? According to my buddy, and based upon his not-so-thorough investigation of my personality, yes. I beg to differ though, and we should ignore the fact that during my trip up onto the Tibetan plateau I felt like I’d achieved a higher mental plane. That’s beside the point. Further investigation of this High-Altitude Mental Theory is needed at this time in order to test its credibility. It should also be pointed out that I’ll only be a participating guinea pig if I can get a substantial decrease in the Friendship Dues monthly installments he says I owe him.

Now we’ve got the whole age factor situation entering into the picture. I guess I need to get philosophical about this whole situation, right? My buddy will always be younger than yours truly and unfortunately, even thirty-seven years ago I had less hair on the top of my head than him. Now it’s even worse.

On the other hand, I like to think that being four days older than my buddy makes me four days wiser. I’m sure he’ll disagrees on this point, but that’s my opinion concerning the subject and I’m sticking to my guns on this one.

When all was said and done the ski trip was a lot of fun. The two of us had a chance to trade war stories about the Kenya years, discussed our corresponding domestic predicaments, and talked a lot about our mutual desires to achieve world domination within the next few years.

The trip was so enjoyable in fact, that the two of us are in discussions at this time about turning this ski trip rendezvous into an annual event. This will give me the chance to share my wisdom about aging with my young charge. After all, he’s just a wet-behind-the-ears rookie with a very naïve outlook on life.