56

This is 56. This is the age I’ve always been curious about since adopting my kid all those years ago. Knowing this is the age I’d be when he graduated from high school. I’d pondered greatly who I’d be, what I would look like, whether I’d have the same stamina, the same wherewithal beyond my duties. Whether I’d be any closer toward reaching my ultimate goal in life, or if I’d simply given up.

It was a different life for me 18 birthdays ago when I said yes to raising this child. Now that I’ve made it to this personal milestone, I’m happy to have exceeded my own expectations. Sure, I feel my age, but I also know it’s a pretty grand thing what I’ve hit coming past the proverbial turnstile for another ride on life’s rollercoaster. I’m happy and grateful to be in the kind of shape I am in doing it. Even with hair recession, I’m still more in my prime now than my teenage self, and that’s as fabulous as one can expect at this junction. I’m doing it unabashedly geeky and with the credo of staying forever young as long as my body stays with the game plan.

The celebration started over the weekend when my family presented me with an epic Hershey’s chocolate cake, and guess who and what was sitting there as a rowdy, rad cake topper! A now sold-out Minus One Godzilla straight out of the Toho store. My love affair with Godzilla stems from my mother, who blew my mind apart as a young kid putting on his movies when they ran on Saturday afternoons in the mid-Seventies. Watching him put silly beatdowns on Mothra, Rodan, King Ghidorah, Gigan, Ebirah, Hedorah, even the dumbest King Kong ever, I was in love with the whole nutty thing. When I finally saw the far more serious OG 1954 Godzilla, I saw the protest piece that it was, and I knew Godzilla was my man for all of this life.

Godzilla is also symbolic for me of raising that spirit of attacking everything head-on, of knocking obstacles aside to reach your ultimate destination. To show life what you’re made of, even when that internal combustion reaches radioactive levels. A true Godzilla SKREEEEEONK for me is the sound of joy, not rage, even though I prefer my King Green scary AF.

I’m jotting my thoughts here with LL Cool J’s Walking With a Panther album rolling (you know, when rap was still fun), and I’m droppin’ ‘em, and I’m poppin’ ‘em with a firm grasp of myself and where I’m heading, aside from an entirely new location and life. A couple of weeks ago, I had one of the biggest heartbreaks of my writing life, to the point I swallowed the flammable disappointment before allowing it to consume me.

God, how I wanted it more than anything I’ve ever written, and it goes shelved as one of my personal best stories. I wanted it to be a wave, a shout-out, a token of love, respect and most of all, thanks to my hero and his esteemed family, especially the patriarch who got me rolling all the way back in 1982. I wanted this more than those who got accepted, and I’m not backing down from that statement. I’ll readily prove it, even if I know the reason I missed the big dance, like a wild card winning a ticket into the playoffs so often makes a great run yet gets edged out of the final round by the best of the best. I’m not too much of a crying guy, but I sobbed and screamed in the deepest, most private recesses of my being, keeping my best poker face forward.

And that’s the main thing: moving forward with a champion mindset. I paused to reflect on this moment, which I’ll consider the actual mark of my 56th year. I checked myself, realizing the odds were so incredibly slim, and having the editor take a moment to tell me my submission had made it past the first cut? Putting it into perspective, I’m pretty damned proud of that. Even better, establishing rapport and friendship with said editor, and I respect the heck out of them. After all, friendships and pure love with someone special mean more than anything else in life. I have all that in droves.

It tamed my internal Godzilla roar to an emission of focus, not anger. Purpose, not vengeance. I was able to take that roar and raw energy and put it all into my recent book signings and appearances. Looking down the road, I’m already happier than you-know-what by the reception and sales of October Rust, and all the appearances I have booked upcoming. All the family and friends who showed up for my Barnes & Noble signing a couple of weeks ago gave me monster juice to keep blasting. With pride, not fury.

Thus, I felt more than the usual bond with my mom as she looked so incredibly pleased with herself to plant a most excellent Godzilla figure upon my birthday cake. She knows that roar always exists inside of me, and she knows right now, May 12th, I’m feeling the most SKREEEEEEONKY I’ve ever been. Because like LL, I’m just that type of guy.

—Ray Van Horn, Jr.