Barry is 59 today. Based on my cracker-jack math, that means I wrote this four years ago, but it still fits. Now Barry is eating far too many fancy pastries from a new in Vancouver, WA fancy bakery shop. Yes. That’s right. He still needs a girlfriend.
This blog is in honor of my friend, Barry Johnson, who doesn’t read my blog. I met Barry in August of 1972. I was carrying my gym-clothes in a paper bag. Barry noticed, but never made fun of me to my face. That’s a good way to start a life-long friendship.
Barry turned 55 today. Whenever I see him he suggests book titles to me. This time his suggestion was, “55 and Suicidal.” This is Barry’s idea of an excellent self-help book title. He told me that the fact that there’s no confusing 55 with midlife (which remains possible at 50) makes 55 much more emotionally painful. He also told me that being 55 and past mid-life is liberating because basically his life is over and so he can say and do whatever he wants. And Barry is an expert in eating and so I think this statement had something…
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