Spotify just offered up a playlist, “Thrifted,” that celebrates 25 years of Ben Folds’ “Whatever and Ever, Amen” album, and the song “Brick.”

Now, everyday, especially on Facebook or Twitter, I’m reminded in some way that I’m getting older and things that seem like they just happened yesterday are indicative of just how old I am. This one hit different though.  Maybe it’s because I was an ADULT when Ben Folds hit the scene, and so since I’m still an ADULT that album must have been a few years ago, right? Even New Kids on the Block popping up with a new video recently didn’t hit this hard, because hey, I was a senior when they had that breakthrough album so we’re all part of the same universe.

The seeming paradox of Ben Folds’ Brick being 25 years old just adds another layer to all of this.  Life moves fast, things change, we get old.  Dropping my daughter off at the back of my alma mater, where she’s a sophomore, I quipped “where do kids smoke now that they’ve built this rear entrance over the smoking area?” She at first seemed genuinely shocked there WAS a smoking area for students, but then explained people just VAPE in the bathroom now.  If you’re part of my generation, I don’t need to deconstruct that entire exchange into all the pieces that apply to my discussion here. (I’m also ignoring the fact that as I am typing this very sentence it occurs to me that sometime in the next few months I am going to be prompted about my 35^th High School reunion…which doesn’t help my demeanor in the moment.)

Time is a fickle funny thing.  My wife, being 8 years younger than me, is on a different sliding scale of history altogether.  Sometimes I must stop and think about when a particular movie came out or TV series was on the air before I begin discussing it as if she experienced it in the same context I did.  Even so, we still share a general commonality that puts us in the same lifeboat I guess…even if I was graduating high school when she was just turning 10.

I think what is on my mind right now though is the shift that comes in life where we stop counting down…looking back on memories and reconciling just how long ago this or that happened and how that reflects on how old we are…and when we start really looking forward and contemplating how much longer we’ve got left.  It’s like that point in a game of Jenga where you know that one of those side blocks is going to cause the game to end, but you just don’t know which one. 

I had a longtime client come in today to pick up her taxes. She’s 91 years old, and she’s been coming as far back as I can recall.   She had a tax question for me, So I took a moment with her to see if I could help.  What she wanted to know was if she dies this year, based on her current tax situation, would her kids (I use that term tongue in cheek, given that they are in their 60s themselves) need to file a tax return for her next year.  My mom spoke up and in classic Bonnie fashion asked “Why, are you planning on dying?” and of course the client laughed and said “well, I’m 91 so I just want to be prepared.” It’s a fair question: I had another nonagenarian pass away in December, and she had driven herself to the office last year in February to bring us her stuff as usual.  Even when you think you’ve got all the time in the  world, you never know.  Even the world doesn’t have all the time in the world. I’m fascinated thinking of all the ways our brains adapt as we age, and all the ways they don’t. I do think sometimes about how much time I might have left, but guess as I might we don’t usually know unless we are facing a life ending illness. I guess maybe the key is to just keep pulling blocks out and enjoying the game until my tower finally tumbles.