Well, the big day has finally arrived. Today is my 60th birthday. I googled the date and found that I share a birthday with Garrison Keillor, one of the people I most admire. Warren Zevon, a singer/songwriter that I include in my top ten favorites of all time, died on this date. And in 1927, a fellow by the name of Philo Farnsworth first demonstrated the television in San Francisco.

Sir Elton John spent two years planning his 60th birthday bash which included over-the-top parties in London and New York, and culminated in a sold out concert at Madison Square Garden. Muhummad Ali’s 60th warranted a TV special.

When I turned 30, Anne threw me a small surprise party, the highlite of which was me walking naked into the darkened rec room only to have our friends yell SURPRISE! when I turned the light on. You can say that again. For my 40th, she waited exactly one month before throwing the party. She and most of our friends had pretty much ignored my birthday when it rolled around. I was so hurt and pissed that I almost refused the dinner invitation to go to the friend’s house who hosted what turned out to be the most fun and surprising party I’ve ever had. For my 50th, I got sloppy drunk and maudlin with friends and neighbors at an afternoon drop by.

I’m pretty sure there isn’t going to be a surprise party today. At least I hope not. Anne just returned yesterday from a two week trip, most of which was spent at a conference in Germany. Jet lag has a way of dampening enthusiasm. No, today I intend to spend the day just the way I want to, lazing around with my wife and the cat and the dog. I may cut the grass, or I may not. I’ve got a rack of baby back ribs for the smoker this afternoon and a couple bottles of good wine for our evening porch time. I suspect I’ll get a few phone calls from the people I want to hear from. No over-the-top bash. No TV special. Just an ordinary day in paradise.

All in all, it’s shaping up to be a pretty good day.