It's Christmas in New Zealand. I'm young and remembering, hoping to glimpse the monster at Loch Ness, wading in an icy stream at the base of the Matterhorn, spying on guards across the East German border, and clumsily asking a French vendor for an ice cream cone. Some day I'll sing carols at the doors of a Viennese cathedral, kiss a girl in a cave outside Budapest, play soccer with students at Akademgorodok, and help some Maasai boys build a small house for their doctor. In a few days, I'll celebrate the new year in Australia.
Today (1 December 2014) is my fortieth birthday. As you might imagine, I've heard the phrase "over the hill" a few times today. By present standards, I have indeed lived about half of the life expectancy for American males. But standards change. By past standards, I've already lived more than a full lifetime. By future standards? Well, remember I'm a Transhumanist. I think it's more likely that I'll die in an accident than that I'll die of the diseases of aging around age 80 (or 800 for that matter). Am I right? Let's hope (and work) to find out.