God is Good to the Johnsons

Hey, Fam.  For those who don't know, I hit the big three–oh about two weeks back.  Every adult that's older than me, except for two people, have been telling me that thirty is nothing to worry about. "Wait 'til forty," said my neighbor. "Wait 'til fifty. That's when you realize you might not live to be double your age," said my grandma. "Sixty is when you'll start to feel it, when the gray hairs go crazy" said the lady at Mrs. Cavanaugh's. "Eighty is when you're really, really old," said my grandpa. "You'll feel it."  Interestingly, "seventy" was left out of the conversation. I wonder what that means.  Now, I don't want to discount the experiences of all those people. Surely those forty fifty sixty eighty birthdays were pretty tough on them. But I honestly  have worried about turning thirty. When I was a kid, I dreamed about all the things I'd do when I was twenty–something. But I ne