Foir My Friends Tuirning 50...

To all of my friends that have hit the big 50 or are about to..

Perhaps it is the approaching autumn or maybe just the mind set of middle age. But these days when I drive around, I often find myself looking in the rear-view mirror. I think that's why I occasionally lose my way.
But the view to the back seems so much more pleasant than what's coming at me through the windshield. I figure looking back is worth the occasional detour it causes.
In my rear-view mirror, I might see my now-grown daughters as little kids, circa 1986, strapped in their car seats. I might see my wife in, say, 1979 sticking out her lip at me, pouting and making a face because I asked her to sit in the back seat so my best friend could sit up front with me.
In the rear-view mirror, I can see my sons as little boys, covered in grass stains and dirt, singing along with Arlo Guthrie on "Alice's Restaurant" coming home from the annual family Thanksgiving football game.
There's my father-in-law back there, doing some serious back-seat driving; my son-in-law as I brought him home from basic training; my dad teaching me, the 16-year-old, how to drive.
In my rear-view mirror, with some extra effort, I can see myself at 35, speeding down the interstate through the mountains towards Florida, smoking a cigar at full-moon midnight, listening to Credence on the tape deck while all around me my family sleeps, dreaming of DisneyWorld.
I take comfort from what has happened behind me, the rear-view mirror version of my life. Although my perspective of my life ahead changes with every passing mile, the road behind me is set, fixed in history. The fact that I cannot change it is reassuring. I know took a wrong turn here and there, but I also know I always followed the path that I thought best at the time. That's all I could do. I'm happy with how things have turned out so far. It has been a nice drive.
What is up ahead, what I see through the windshield, is not nearly so comforting. The road is not familiar. It's not clearly marked. It twists and turns. There always seems to be some kind of bad weather on the horizon, and I'm definitely not happy about that red "Check Engine" light on the dash. The sun's setting, and I'll need headlights. I'm not confident I can navigate this road.
And by the way, where am I headed anyway?
When I started on this trip, I never looked in the rear-view mirror. The road seemed straight, the sun was shining and the windshield was clean. The few turns in the road were marked, and there always were helpful people to give me directions when I got lost. I didn't know where I was going, but I didn't care. Pedal to the metal, brother, and get out of the way.
But now the car's got some miles on it. The windshield's dirty, and the glare from the headlights of oncoming traffic is a killer. Who wouldn't prefer looking out the back?
And yet, comforting as it may be, I realize it's impossible to drive if all I do is look in the rear-view mirror. I realize that, in the last few miles, if I hadn't been looking behind, I could have avoided a few potholes. And other drivers are starting to ask me for guidance, and they're getting impatient. I don't want to let them down.
I've got a granddaughter, whose name will be Grace, due to arrive in November. No matter the distance or the grime on the windshield; I can see her absolutely clearly. She'll be in back, strapped into a car seat in, say, 2009, out for an ice cream with her grandpa.
Not a bad view. A saving Grace.
Thank you so very much.....