The summer has technically just started, but the appearance of fireflies suggest that we are already halfway through the season in the north. The fireflies also means that it must be time to celebrate my birthday, some 37 years ago. Do take the time to fix yourself a cocktail and toast to my health. Probably I will live quite a long time -- unless I don’t. Whatever the case, I always like to take a moment each year to consider what other people were doing when they were my age:
If I were Mary Richards at age thirty-seven, I would have moved to Minneapolis seven years ago. Although I would not know it, this would be my last year working at WJM.
If I were Dolly Parton, this is the year that I would release “Islands in the Stream” with Kenny Rogers.
If I were Kenny Rogers, this is the year I would release my first solo album. It would be another sixteen years before my disastrous foray into fast food.
If I were Cher, this would be the year that my film career took off with the release of Silkwood. I would take the then-unknown Val Kilmer as my date to the Oscars. He would be 13 years my junior and sport a hideous mullet.
If I were James Dean, I would be dead.
If I were Luke Appling, the Chicago White Sox legend, I would be serving in World War II at age 37.
If I were Pancho Villa, this is the year that I would attack the small town of Columbus, New Mexico. This action would transform me overnight into a villain in the eyes of most U.S. citizens.
If I were the Roman Emperor Nero, I would be dead.
If I were Chloë Sevigny, this is the year that I would have finished filming the series Big Love.
If I were Captain Kirk, my five year mission “to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations” would end.
If I were William Shatner, I would have been playing Captain Kirk for two years.
If I were Captain Picard, I would be serving as first officer of the U.S.S. Stargazer. It would be another 22 years before I took command of the Enterprise.
If I were Patrick Stewart, I would have been a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company for eleven years. It would be another ten before I accepted the role of Captain Picard.
If I were Jesus, I would be dead.
If I were GayProf, I would be mediating on another failed romance. My blog, The Center of Gravitas, would barely be updated in its sixth year.
If I were César Chávez, I would sign the one-thousandth member to the recently founded National Farm Workers Association. That organization would have fifty locals.
If I were Marylin Monroe, I would be dead.
If I were Martin Luther King, Jr., I would be campaigning to end slums in Chicago.
If I were Noël Coward, I would produce my short play Still Life for the first time in London this year.
If I were Paul Revere, my silversmith business would be struggling. It would be another three years before I rode through the night to warn Massachusetts colonists that the British regular army was mobilizing for a possible assault on Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and others at Lexington.
If I were Sarah Palin, I would have absolutely no idea why Paul Revere was important to the U.S. War for Independence.
If I were Princess Diana, I would be dead.
In between nursing my polio stricken husband, I would write my first article (“Common Sense Versus Party Regularity) if I were Eleanor Roosevelt.
If I were Blake Harper, I would retire from gay porn in three years. -- What? This isn't a blog for children.
If I were Ellen Degeneres, I would be starring in my own sitcom (Ellen). It would be another two years before I publicly came out of the closet.
If I were Oscar Wilde, I would pen “The Soul of Man under Socialism” this year.
If I were Hernán Cortés, Malintzin (a.k.a. Doña Marina, a.k.a. “La Malinche”) would give birth to my son this year.
If I were Michel Foucault, I would publish Birth of the Clinic this year.
If I were either of my parents, I would already have three children. The oldest would be seventeen years old. The youngest would be ten years old.
If I were Montgomery Clift, I would finish filming Raintree County with Elizabeth Taylor. It would be the first time the public saw my face after my car accident.
If I were Derek Jeter, this would be the year that I hit my 3,000th hit (most likely).
If I were Franklin Roosevelt, I would be the Assistant Secretary of the Navy. It would be another 14 years before I became President of the United States.
If I were Paul Lynde, I would record a comedy album entitled Recently Released this year.
If I were Mitt Romney, my insatiable greed would lead me to seek $37 million to co-found the private equity firm Bain Capital.
If I were Wonder Woman, I would age another 2,454 years before joining Patriarch’s world to fight crime.