When I turned 20, I was in my final year at Berklee College of Music.
Like all 20 year olds, I was in a hurry, to where or what I had no idea. Probably generally to get away - from school, from feeling like an outsider, from never quite saying the right thing. I was young, which is, on balance, just fine.
When I turned 30, I wasn’t rich, or famous, and was reasonably certain those things should’ve come my way by then.
But the Allen Stone machine was steadily rising, everything in my life was changing, and I was still young, though old enough, I’d been told, that I should know better. Which concerned me, because mostly I didn’t.
Now, the idea of turning 40 isn’t so unfathomable. I’m still not rich, or famous, but now I’m reasonably certain those things don’t matter quite so much.
I’ve seen more of the world than I’d ever imagined, played music with heroes, admirably swash buckled and gotten into trouble. I don’t have much that resembles a normal life, and that bums me out every once in a while. I’ll be an older father, if I’m ever one at all. But that too is, on balance, just fine.
The creative fire burns brighter than ever, and I’m unafraid of adventure, or the change that anticipates it.