48

If you wonder the number of years that I am
It's the number of states all connected by land

It's the number of hours over 2 different days
It's 2 dozen eggs cooked in 2 different ways

It's the smallest whole number with 10 whole divisors
It's the number of 6 whole adults in incisors

It's 31 more than the age of a minor
It's one number less than a pro 49-er

It's 3 pints of soda as measured in ounces
It's 12 4-bounce ball drops as measured in bounces

It's a third of a gross, and it's four feet in inches
It's the number of slats in 8 6-slatted benches

It's a precinct in Gotham where cars may get stolen
It's the number to call if you want to reach Poland

It's all of these things, and while all are quite fine
In 12 months I'll tell you about 49

It's my birthday

Here's what I've learned about life so far:

1. Marry a smokin' hot woman who will still look like she's 25 when she's 45. They say beauty fades, so it's good if she's also smart or nice or accepts you for who you are.

2. Choose good kids. Look for sense of humor, sweetness, and ticklishness.

3. Do what you love; the money won't follow. So far, my income from amateur wrestling, movie making, screenwriting, and children's book writing has been roughly enough to live in a trailer in rural West Virginia and eat squirrel for six months. But it was either that or the hedge fund thing.

4. What is everybody getting so stressed about? We're all gonna be dead in 50 years. Spread a little joy to cancel out all the a-holes out there.

There is a happy ending

It's official. I'm the only person other than Michael J. Fox's mother ever to get choked up while watching "Back to the Future."

AMC Theatres had a special showing of the original movie to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Marty McFly's time travel. So we rounded up a bunch of Samuel and Ethan's friends from school and went down to 42nd Street to see it.


It was almost a full house, and the crowd was rowdy--clapping and whooping at all the key lines ("Doc, you're telling me you built a time machine out of a DeLorean?").

And when we got to the part where George wins Lorraine by knocking out Biff, the audience erupted in cheers, and I, well, I got a lump in my throat, swallowed hard, and looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds.


I thought, here is an entire theater full of people who like BTTF as much as my 12-year-old son does. And I immediately knew that things will turn out okay for Samuel. He'll grow up to be the person he was meant to be, with friends who share his passions. All the things I love about him--his scientific mind, his creativity, his earnestness, his gentleness, his inquisitiveness--will all be appreciated by, at minimum, a theater full of people who cheer when good triumphs over evil and DeLoreans travel through time. I glanced over at him clapping, and I clapped too, and my heart was 1.21 jigawatts big.

"What's so great about pearls?"

"They're just little pieces of dust covered with oyster spit."
--Ethan Tarpley

I may be just an intellectual elitist, but...

The idea that Ivy League graduates are somehow "dumber" than regular people is an idea that really only makes sense to dumb people.

If you were my wife and you'd just bought $20 worth of Halloween candy...

...where would you hide it?

DeLorean Fall Foliage Tour

This weekend we paricipated in the DeLorean Mid-Atlantic Club's fall foliage tour. We stayed overnight at a hotel in Hazleton, Pennsylvania, then drove the next morning with the DeLoreans to an abandoned town called Centralia. It was condemned due to a massive underground coal mine fire that emitted dangerous levels of carbon monoxide, melted roads, and opened up annoying 150-foot sinkholes.

Bummer.

Samuel rode in one of the DeLoreans, while Jen, Ethan, and I formed the caboose of the caravan in our lovely Toyota Camry rental car. Taco Bell and Wendy's on the way home. A good road trip.

"Dad, how much would you pay for an unlimited amount of cheese?"

Who says New Yorkers can't go to the Empire State Building?

Back in my NYU days I used to go to the Empire State Building several times a year, usually at night, usually spontaneously, just to look down at the lights of the city and feel awed, and humbled, and inspired, and overwhelmed, and so thankful that I had actually managed to get here.

Tonight we had dinner near Union Square--fun to get out of our own neighborhood--and when we walked outside we saw the lights of the Empire State Building, twenty blocks north, and I said to Samuel, "We should go there."

And Jennifer and Ethan said okay. And so we did.

We bought our $20 tickets (didn't they used to be, like, $5?), waited in line behind the entire population of Uzbekistan, and endured the annoying upsells (buy the SkyRide for an extra $10, audio tour for an extra $10, photo for an extra $20, go to the 102nd floor for an extra $15, avoid the lines for an extra $25).

And let me just say that if Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan had ever actually tried to find each other on the observation deck, they never would've gotten together, and that movie would've ended unhappily.

But when we got to the 86th floor and walked outside, Ethan exhaled a "Wow," and I was glad we came.

It's still the greatest city on earth, and I'm still awed and humbled and inspired and overwhelmed by it. And it's nice to be reminded of that every now and then.

"Dad, how much does it cost to rent a flamingo?"

Todd: I have no idea. Why?

Ethan: No reason.

Best Friends at 9

This is what's it's like on a fall afternoon that still seems a little bit like summer, with your best friend whom you've known since you both wore diapers; too old for superhero costumes, not yet old enough for girls, and enjoying a tire swing probably more than you ever will again until you have kids of your own.