In just a few days’ time, my life will change markedly and simultaneously not at all.
I will still be the same person, with the same likes and dislikes. I won’t have undergone any sudden dramatic transformation. But whereas, at the time of writing, I am 29, in the coming days I am going to turn 30.
I don’t quite know why but in this day and age, 30 seems like the cut-off between “youth” and “everything else”. Both in publications in our own community and in wider society, we occasionally see “30 under 30” lists, of groups of dynamic and energetic movers and shakers. Sadly I will no longer be able to grace such lists — not that I ever did, but the opportunity to do so is gone. To quote Terry (Marlon Brando) in On The Waterfront, “I coulda’ been a contender!” (Incidentally, Brando was 30 when he played that role.)
Up until now, “where does the time go” has tended to be a question I’ve received from others, usually from old family friends who haven’t seen me since my barmitzvah. The fact I’m now beginning to ask this of myself is more than a little disturbing to me.
I am told that being 30 feels no different from being 29. And I’m sure that’s true — why should one day feel any different from the next? And only certain colleagues are sympathetic to my concerns. The older ones roll their eyes and mutter: “Just try being 50.”
But nonetheless, the word, the idea, the age of 30 carries a certain weight, not just metaphorically but physically. I can now look forward to a slowing metabolism, a gentle deterioration from a six-pack to dad-bod. Mentally, 30 marks a shift from laughing at the hang-ups of the older generation to peering irately down one’s nose at the foibles of those younger (“Who is ‘Billie Eilish’? What is a ‘TikTok’? In my day we had MSN and Facebook and we were grateful for them”.)
Rapidly approaching 30 reminds me of nothing more than a Friends episode (even that cultural reference dates me), fittingly titled The One Where They All Turn Thirty. All of the main characters are shown struggling when they reach this milestone. In particular, Joey Tribbiani (played by Matt LeBlanc) has trouble coping with his new reality, repeatedly casting his eyes up unto the heavens and shouting “Why, God, why?”
When I first saw this in my teens, the episode was about as easy to identify with as reading the verses in Genesis about Methuselah, the oldest man to have ever lived. Now, however, it’s not nearly as hard to relate. Incidentally, all six of the main Friends characters had already hit 30 when that episode aired in 2001, with ages ranging from 32 to 38.
But from a Jewish perspective, there are plenty of positives to turning 30. The Mishnah describes 30 as the year when one achieves one’s full strength, which is intriguing. Will I be able to graduate from 10 kilo weights at the gym and try twelves? Or is it strength of will, and my ability to turn down dessert at the end of a meal will be heightened? I look forward to finding out.
Rabbi Samuel ben Meir, a leading twelfth century Torah scholar better known by his acronym of the Rashbam, goes further than the Mishnah, saying th that at the age of 30 one is worthy of leadership.
So if anyone knows of any leadership opportunities, my inbox is open (I hear Israel is looking for a new Prime Minister, and if the UK isn’t, it certainly should be.)
But there is more. Please God, in the coming months I will marry, having met someone more wonderful than I could ever have imagined. And then, hopefully, we will start a family.
The more I think about it, why would I want to be younger again? I am the person I am now because of the experiences I have been through and the things I have accomplished. You can’t achieve personal growth without a proper amount of time in which to grow.
And so, despite a wider society which occasionally depicts 30 as the death of youth, my thirties, I hope, will be my most exciting and rewarding decade yet. I can’t wait to experience it.
