Happy Birthday to Mr. Casey Ressler

Being Frank, by Frank Ameduri

Casey Ressler will never learn. Every time he goes on vacation I get stuck with his work, and every time, I write a column with the intent to embarrass him into never going on vacation again.

It's not like he hasn't been warned. In the real world, there's no such thing as a free lunch, and in my world, there's no such thing as vacation without consequences.

So …

I'm writing this column on Thursday, two days before a big moment in Ressler's life. You're reading it on Sunday. As you read this, Ressler is almost certainly sitting in his recliner with a bag of frozen vegetables pressed against his forehead and muttering things like, "Never again, Lord. Just get me through this one, and I swear, never again."

You see, Saturday was Casey Ressler's 30th birthday. That's right, pretty soon, Ressler will be bald, overweight and will spend his Saturdays fishing and his Sundays parked in front of the tube, watching sports and drinking beer. I guess that's my way of saying, relax, Ressler, nothing really changes at 30.

Because I know it's the last thing he wants, I've got a little advice for Casey as he steps over the first hill and into that green valley of maturity.

First, fashion is no longer as strict a requirement as it once was. You can revert to your high school hairstyle (if you have hair) and reduce your wardrobe to loose-fitting jeans, T-shirts and sweat ensembles. Wear white socks with everything; only wear a belt when you have to tuck in your shirt, and only tuck in your shirt at job interviews, some weddings and all funerals. When you turn 40, you can wear stretchy shorts, colored socks and sandals for all occasions.

Second, it's time to come to grips with the fact that the music you listened to in high school and college was really bad. You only listened to it then because it annoyed your parents, and now that your failing memory has you believing you really liked it, you're just annoying everyone else around you. It's time to discover real music, like Steve Earle, Iris Dement and Townes Van Zandt. It's also time to stop making fun of Johnny Cash.

There are a few things you need to know about being hip. Nobody is ever hip. Young people get away with pretending to be hip, because they're young, and we expect them to wear stupid clothes, butcher the language in an attempt to be cool and watch television programs that are designed to reduce brain activity and further spread the wearing of stupid clothes and the butchery of the language.

If you do any of those things now, you will not be hip, or charming, or cute. You will be silly.

Next, being 30 is not the same as being old. Being old comes in two forms -- it's either a state of mind, or it sets in when joints stop working and old body parts start falling off and new (strange-looking) ones start growing. It's important you remember that some of us are way past 40. Just because you've passed 30 doesn't mean you can go around saying things like, "Jeez. I'm getting old now." That's a good way to get a set of false teeth stuck in your forearm.

It's also important to remember that some sports are falling off your list and others are replacing them.

Soon you'll have to swap basketball for shuffleboard. You'll trade tennis for Scrabble. You'll always have golf, though you can start moving up to the ladies' tees now, and you can be more open about taking those mulligans.

Lastly, stop worrying about those tattoos you woke up with this morning. They're only temporary, and we had to do something for entertainment after you "fell asleep" at your birthday party. The Strawberry Shortcake tattoo on your right bicep was Bartz' idea. Happy birthday, Casey. You're a great friend, and I hope the next 30 treat you as well as the first 30 have.

Frank Ameduri is also just past 30 … give or take a few mulligans.