I have struggled with this milestone birthday. In the couple of years leading up to it, I have found myself looking back as much as looking forward. The death of my father in November 2017 also triggered this time of reflection.

Some of the memories seem trivial in the grand scheme of things. They certainly don’t compare to having good health and a wonderful family. Sandy and I have a 10-month-old grandchild and another one on the way.

I count my blessings every day, but it hasn’t changed my thought process.

One example of this came when Sandy and I were in Canadian Tire recently. We walked past the section with fishing equipment. I said maybe that is something I would have liked to do — as long as someone took the hook out of the fish’s mouth.

In my mind, fish come from the market. Beef, pork and chicken show up at the grocery store all wrapped and ready to be purchased.

It’s weird, but I have had an urge to go camping. The last time I tried it was about 35 years ago. Sandy and I were in B.C., where it rained and rained. One morning, we packed the camping gear in the trunk of our car and drove to Las Vegas. There was no rain there.

Another example of my looking back came when Sandy and I were cleaning the garage. That day, I found my golf clubs buried in the rubble.

I loved golfing with Doug McConachie, Ralph Losie and Art Robinson back in the day. Doug and Ralph are gone now. Memories of the fun times at Holiday Park’s Executive Nine will live on, as will the day when Doug and Art took all 18 holes from Ralph and me in a round in Prince Albert. They even gave us a stroke on the Par 4s.

When I was young, I played golf with friends. The annual highlight was a tournament at Waskesiu. Another was playing nine holes with friends on the day of my wedding — 41 years ago.

Also in the garage was an old pair of curling shoes. I wish I had kept playing in the 1980s and/or had come out of retirement when I turned 50. That was my plan. Now, 15 years later, I am thinking of putting my name on a spare list this winter.

As I was driving on South Circle Drive one day, I peered to the east to what was once known as Fairview Field. For six summers in the 1970s, I worked for the city’s parks and recreation department.

I spent my first year in a combination of Sifton Park and looking after the boulevards on 22nd Street. Back then, there were flower beds and a watering system on 22nd Street. Let me tell you, it was a long walk from Avenue B to Witney Avenue even for a young whippersnapper.

I spent two years at Fairview Field — now known as Newsham Fields — and then three at Kiwanis Park beside the Bessborough Hotel. The worst day was the one after the Louis Riel Relay Race. With apologies to pigs, people are such pigs.

One of the most memorable days was when a young woman decided to suntan topless. A cyclist was staring so hard that he hit a picnic table. Clearly, we needed bike lanes. Eventually, the police came and took the sunbather away. I am sure she got a dressing up from a friendly, wide-eyed constable.

Anyway, I took walks in Sifton Park and Newsham Fields recently. Both brought back good memories of the people I worked with. The walks were also a reminder that 45 years have passed. Parks don’t change as much as people.

One day I pulled out the high school yearbook from my Grade 12 year. That was way back in 1972. I had shivers as I turned the pages.

Most of the names were familiar, as were their 18-year-old faces. I wondered how their lives turned out and, somewhat morbidly, how many have died. I know a few have.

The odds of a male living to 65 are about 85 per cent and 90 per cent for females. Statistically, that means more than 20 of my classmates have passed away. Of the people in my graduating class, I have stayed in touch with fewer than five. I use the phrase “staying in touch” loosely. It’s more bumping into them from time to time.

Over the years, I have had school friends, work friends and sports friends. There is a point where your social circle is made up of parents with children in the same activities as yours. For the past 30 years, Sandy and I have had wonderful neighbours.

All of this said, I have applied for my Canada pension and will start getting my Old Age Security cheques this month. The words “old age” sound so insensitive.

It is time to accept my age, even though I won’t act it. And no cards or gifts, please.

(Note: My birthday was a couple of days after press time. I hope I made it.)

-Cam Hutchinson