No! I’m not talking about George Herbert Walker Bush! After all, he’s 80. And I’m no where near that age. Although today I’m one step closer. And I’m not jumping out of anything from a high altitude. I plan to do that when I’m his age. Mark that down and hold me to it.
By the time 41 had turned 41, he was already a decorated war hero and an oil tycoon. He had co-founded the Zapata Petroleum Corporation.
I have a beautifully decorated home where we watch the war his son started on TV and I also co-founded a corporation. With my husband. Although we are full-fledged members of the ownership society, we are still working on the “tycoon” part.
When 41 was 40, he ran for a Senate seat in Texas and lost.
When I was 40, I seemed to have lost more and more of my short term memory.
Okay, where was I? Oh, yeah.
But there’s still hope for me.
When 41 was 41, his best years were ahead of him. He was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in 1966. Then was named U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations.
Then he became Chairman of the Republican National Committee.
Then he became Director of the CIA.
Then he became Vice-President of the United States.
Then he became President of the United States.
Okay. Re-reading that and gazing into my future, I may not jump out of an airplane today. I may jump out a window.
But then I remembered that 41 lost to Slick Willy in ‘92 and raised No. 43.
See? Nobody’s life is perfect.
I’m pretty sure my son will never cut taxes only for the rich nor marry a girl with such a potty mouth. I’ve taught him never to start a war based on hype and to never use God to gain power. Yes, I’ve also taught him about karma.
Tonight’s celebration will be an intimate affair. Just my husband, son and me. And hopefully a birthday cake that’s not low-carb. And before I blow out the candles, I’m going to think of No. 41 and make a little wish for a kinder, gentler nation.