"You've always wanted to be 40!"

Those were the words of one of my oldest friends.  Drew lived across the hall from me in university and then later we were roommates while in the Navy.  He's always been very insightful into my personality and I count him as one of my best friends.
The comment came as we had a chance to reconnect a few weeks ago while I was on a business trip to San Francisco.  He lives very close to the airport there and even though this was the first time I had seen him in 18 months, we picked up right where we had left off.  It says a lot about our friendship that even after the 10-year period when we were in only very very loose e-mail contact, we were able to catch up quickly as if we had never left.
We spent a couple hours that evening discussing life and how we were making professional choices that might limit our upward mobility in the workplace, but were true to the family values that really mattered to us.  I mentioned that I was actually feeling very comfortable with turning 40 this summer.  I mentioned that I had long ago decided to step out of the rat race and that I didn't really care about having the latest gadgets, clothes and cars.  I am actually proud that my car (and the requisite minivan) are 10 years old and still running.  I buy my clothes on sale at Land's End and love a bargain more than a label.  I've let my hair grow to longer than it has been since high school, and I'm even a little proud of the flecks of grey that show on my temples.  (I shaved my goatee not because of the copious grey in it, but because I got tired of maintaining it.)
As Drew was teasing me of wanting to be 40 even back in university, he recounted a trip one night to a local bar where everyone else ordered a simple collegiate beer.  I ordered a Scotch--not because I actually liked it, but because I thought of it as being so much more mature than beer.  But the real point was that I did what I wanted to do, not what others were doing or what I thought others wanted/expected me to do.

So what's the point of my rambling?  The pride I felt from Drew's observation is that the idea of being 40 marked a specific point of maturity.  That is the point at which we decide to do what we want because of what matters to us and not because of what we think others expect of us, or because of wanting to receive some certain recognition from others.  I'm not going to start wearing dark socks and sandals just to make a point, but I would if my feet were cold.  It's actually quite liberating to stop caring what others think about silly things like that.