Today is my birthday. I am the grand, old age of forty-eight, and I must say there are days when I feel that down to the ache in my hips. Don’t get old, is what I’m telling you. Being young is better.
About the only thing that improves with age — aside from being able to buy your own beer, of course — is perspective. It’s more important to be comfortable than daring. Drinking a little beer once you’ve bought it is more pleasant than drinking a whole bunch. Success is about more than a corner office (see: comfort). Family is foremost. Time is valuable.
Birthdays are a reminder of all that stuff. They needn’t be a time to mourn, but an opportunity to celebrate everything you’ve managed to learn. I may not be able to climb ten flights of stairs without having to slow down anymore, but I also know that I’ll get where I’m going eventually.
Oh, and birthdays have one other bonus: presents! Who gets tired of presents?
For this birthday, I’ll spare you a link to my wish list, and instead ask for only one thing: buy a copy of Make Them Sorry (link). For my money, Make Them Sorry is the best book I’ve ever written, and that includes all those borderland noir things. Make Them Sorry has good guys and bad guys and bad guys who are good guys and… well, you’ll have to see for yourself.
Thank you to anyone who decides to celebrate my birthday with a solid read. And if you already bought that particular present, I thank you, too. I couldn’t do this without your help.
Get your copy of Make Them Sorry, the latest Camaro Espinoza thriller, from your favorite bookseller. (link)