Jon Malstrom | Authentic Ramblings

I have a love-hate relationship with Facebook.  On the one hand, it’s an enormous time waster.  On the other, it’s a fantastic way to reconnect with friends I haven’t heard from, talked to, or in some cases even thought about in 35 years or more. 
Just recently, within a one-week span, I found three friends that I grew up with in Perry, Georgia.  My family moved away when I was ten, but I kept up with a few of these guys for a while, back in the day when you had to actually write letters and send them through the US Post Office which took weeks.  I wasn’t allowed to call on the phone, because long distance was “too expensive.” 

While it’s been great reminiscing and getting caught up with everyone’s situation, it’s also thrown me into a tiny bit of a funk (more on funk later).  I guess the reality of turning 45 next month is starting to sink in and I’m much more aware of all the reasons why I feel just plain old.  Here are a few of them. 

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The topic of hair is a touchy subject. 

Either there’s not enough or there’s too much.  About seven or eight years ago I noticed that my “high hairline” was actually in the midst of a full-on retreat.  I went into a period of mourning that lasted several years, while trying to figure out what kind of style was going to work for me.  I did not want to be one of those guys with a “party in the back, business in the front” haircut.  I guess a little partying is ok, but not so much that you make a fool of yourself.  Style responsibly is my motto.  I’ve made a vow that I’ll completely shave my head before sporting a comb-over.  You can thank me in a few years.  

Somehow my body got confused about where to appropriately grow hair.  Instead of giving full attention to the cultivation of a full and healthy mane of hair on my head that would make David Hasselhoff jealous, the focus has shifted to my back, ears, and nose.  Yes, I’ve invested in one of those “personal groomers” but it’s a slippery slope.  The more I groom, the more the unwanted hair grows back.  I’m really not into the whole manscaping thing, I just want to tame the big patches.  To make things even worse, most of this unsightly hair is white.  You might think that this would enable me to hide it better, but not so.  Those hairs sticking out of my nose catch the light in such a way that they sort of glow, like little fiber-optic filaments.  I know it sounds kind of cool, but there’s some definite stigma to overcome here. 

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My body is rapidly falling apart. 

A few years ago I began experiencing major difficulty sleeping late on Saturday mornings.  Now I love to sleep in, as I’m a huge slug at heart.  But, once the clock turned past 7:00 or 7:30 AM, my entire body began to ache so badly that I just had to get up.  Multiple doctors visits and physical therapy sessions later, my core was strengthened and I could sleep pain-free until 8:30 or 9:00.  The physical therapist I was seeing was a bit of a sadist, however, and actually introduced some additional complications such as bursitis in my shoulders and tendonitis in my arms.  I still have nightmares of her standing over me and yelling for me to “do the Halloween cat” to stretch my back out.  She seemed so nice when I had my initial phone conversation with her. 

Other age-related medical exams and procedures are becoming part of the routine.    I mean no disrespect to the women with their pap smears and mammograms, but a prostate exam is no picnic either.  And I’m just five years away from regular colonoscopies.  I’m also starting to worry about skin cancer and took advantage of a free screening at our local hospital a few weeks ago (I’m A-ok by the way).  I’m so old that nobody even thought about skin cancer when I was growing up, and SPF 2 sunblock was about as strong as you could buy.  But I didn’t ever bother to buy it – getting a tan was much more effective using a mixture of baby oil and iodine.  Yikes. 

My eyesight started to fail me the day I turned 40.  Literally.  I’ve always been near-sighted, but now I can’t see up close or far away.  After having ten good years after my RK surgery, I jumped right into tri-focal glasses.  It was a difficult adjustment and I really hate wearing them.  I’m anxiously waiting for the next advancement in eyesight enhancement.  Eyeball transplants, perhaps? 

My wife and I were talking about our individual aches and pains the other day (haven’t you noticed that old people love to talk about their aches and pains?) and as I was counting mine off I threw out a modified quote from my favorite philosopher, Roseanne Roseannadanna.  “It just goes to show you, it’s always something.  Either you got a disgusting irregular shaped growth on your shoulder or a camera up your backside.”    

Roseanne Roseannadanna

Wow, that obscure reference from the 70’s just made me feel really, really old. 

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Relevance is harder to achieve than ever before. 

I spend a lot of my time hanging out with and serving alongside a new breed of pastors at my church, an evangelical Christian congregation.  These guys rock the look – messy hair, True Religion jeans (the irony never fails to amuse me) with embroidery on the back pockets, and black, untucked shirts and pointy shoes.   They carry the latest generation iPhone, take their Macbooks everywhere they go (even to the restroom), and greet you with a “Sup.”   

I’ll be honest with you, I feel a fair amount of pressure to keep up and fit in.  Sometimes I do, but sometimes it’s just awkward.  I own a pair of True Religion sneakers, but as far as jeans, Lucky is as far as I go.  We’ve already established that there will be no rocking hairstyle on my head so that’s out.   

I’ve gotten on the Twitter bandwagon because that’s the only real way that relevant information is communicated and relationships are built amongst social networking church staff.  I’m painfully aware that if I’m not funny or entertaining I’ll get “unfollowed” faster than you can say “Catalyst Conference.”  

Remember when the “Rachael” haircut from Friends was all the rage?  Well in these circles it’s the “Pete.”  Pete Wilson, popular pastor and author from Nashville, has created the look that all the new, young, relevant pastors aspire to mimic.  The problem is, Pete has a uniquely shaped head that allows this doo to work for him.  Not all heads are shaped equally, however, and on some this haircut just looks silly.  Imagine a Joan Jett wig on a watermelon.  I’ve seen it.  

Pete Wilson, sporting "The Pete"

Before I left for work this morning I created a playlist of some of my favorite songs to keep me entertained in Houston traffic.  As I rolled up to a stoplight, “Funky Jesus Music” by TobyMac came up for play.  This song has a real funky beat (hence the title) so I cranked it.  In my rearview mirror I could see the back window bouncing to the bass and through the window I saw the teenager in the car behind me roll his eyes.  At that moment I felt every day of my almost-45 years and I reached over and turned the volume down.  When I got to the office, I pulled up TobyMac’s page on Wikipedia.  Turns out the dude is 45!  And white.  Now I don’t plan to buy one of those backward-facing baseball caps with a brim the size of a dinner plate, but I’m not going to be ashamed anymore to play my funk at whatever volume I want.  If TobyMac can remain relevant at 45, so can I.  Here’s to 45.

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