Midlife Crisis

At 38, the Greater Baltimore Committee is having a midlife crisis. It has developed a case of the blahs. Goals that once were so clear now seem confused. In brief, the leadership organization that played such a crucial role in the Charles Center renewal, the Inner Harbor redevelopment and myriad other key issues is treading water.Donald P. Hutchinson, the former Baltimore County executive and state legislator, will have his work cut out for him when he becomes GBC's new president in mid-October.

The Hamptons used to be regarded as a seaside resort area on the tip of Long Island, a place where New Yorkers of means could escape in the summer. In more recent years, it has become a gilded caricature of excess and indifference: the playground of misbehaved celebrities and the super-rich, where people like Bernard Madoff can own a slice of prime oceanfront and erect super-mansions to their hearts' content. Looking for a symbol of the greedy Wall Street financiers who nearly brought this nation's economy to its knees, or of the swarming nouveaux riche and their fixation on social status?

A friend of mine is going through a midlife crisis and recently took up bungee-jumping, which is the newest sickness sweeping the thrill addicts in this country.The midlife crisis arrived on the occasion of his 43rd birthday, when he blew out the candles on a chocolate cake and realized he had accomplished all he could reasonably expect in life, and that his remaining days would be spent in a long, dark slide into the cold ground.I myself arrived at that point in my early 20s. After dropping out of college for the first time, it dawned on me that I was a man with very little aptitude for anything except drinking beer.

Toby Devens knows firsthand that being over 50 doesn't make a woman over the hill. The Clarksville resident is a successful author, a widow twice over, and mother to an adult daughter. The characters in Devens' first novel, My Favorite Midlife Crisis (Yet), could be her own circle of friends. They are three women juggling love lives, aging parents, relationships with grown children, and their own careers. Devens said an "ability to find humor, except in the most difficult circumstances, is probably what buoys up most women."

First, the good news. Men in primitive times probably weren't bothered much with the midlife crisis. As recently as the American Revolution, life expectancy was 35 years, so fellows who went on to hit 40 were probably just glad to be there.But now we live into our 80s, on average, and for men (women too, of course, but that's another story) that longevity comes at a price. Near the end of the fourth decade or so, a painful reality often takes root: We will never play in the major leagues; waistlines bulge to size 38 and bald spots blossom; we, too, will die someday; career success is not all it was cracked up to be. The first half of life has slipped away, and the second half looms as a huge, existential question mark.

I got a convertible.Now I know what you're going to say. You're going to say: "Dave, you pathetic fool, you're 49 and you're having a midlife crisis. Trade that thing in immediately and get a car more suitable for a person your age, such as a 1910 Hupmobile with air bags."No, darn it! I love my convertible! I've always wanted a convertible!For 33 years I've been driving boring cars, starting with my mom's Plymouth Valiant, which was a Ferrari compared with my vTC dad's car, a Nash Metropolitan powered by a motor the same size as the one found inside Tickle Me Elmo.

THE BEST THING THAT CAN be said about the stretch of U.S. 40 that runs through Howard County? It's a legitimate piece of Americana.Like the age rings on an old oak, the sporadic, sometimes tasteless, development that has occurred along it marks a half-century of history. Yet even when indoor shopping malls came into vogue in the '70s and power centers this decade, with their orderliness and aesthetic appeal, the U.S. 40 corridor remained vibrant in spite of its sprawling tackiness.For those who live in communities along its side streets, there is much criticism about the congestion and general ugliness.

Minding your health is not a young man's game. Muscles work smoothly in the teen years, joints flex easily in the 20s. It seems like young men can eat what they want, drink what they desire, and the pounds melt away as quickly as they put them on. They can work 16-hour days, party until 3 a.m., and get up the next day and do it again. (Give or take a few bad hangovers, of course.) Life is a river, flowing to them effortlessly and endlessly. Then sometime in the middle decades -- perhaps as men hit their mid-30s and approach 40, or sometimes 50 -- the river changes.

This week before Christmas, the American shopping mall seems in the prime of life. Cars crowd parking lots, customers jam food courts and stream through stores deep into late holiday shopping hours. Amid evergreen wreaths and red ribbon, all appears well.But the mall is facing a midlife crisis. Buffeted by competition from discount stores, mail-order catalogs and revitalized downtown shops, its novelty as a leisure destination faded, the shopping mall at 40 years old is struggling to redefine its place in the country's landscape.

Toby Devens knows firsthand that being over 50 doesn't make a woman over the hill. The Clarksville resident is a successful author, a widow twice over, and mother to an adult daughter. The characters in Devens' first novel, My Favorite Midlife Crisis (Yet), could be her own circle of friends. They are three women juggling love lives, aging parents, relationships with grown children, and their own careers. Devens said an "ability to find humor, except in the most difficult circumstances, is probably what buoys up most women."

Oyster dinner tomorrow at church The men of Hopkins United Methodist Church are holding the February oyster and chicken dinner from noon to 4 p.m. tomorrow at the church, 13250 Highland Road, Highland. The snow date is Feb. 24. Oyster dinners cost $14; chicken dinners, $10. Both are served with potato salad, string beans and succotash. Desserts will be for sale. Information or to order dinner: 410-531-6187. Coffeehouse concert slated for Feb. 24 The Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Columbia will sponsor a concert by Janelia Soul' Afrique, a world beat fusion group, at 7 p.m. Feb. 24 at Owen Brown Interfaith Center, 7246 Cradlerock Way, Columbia.

Minding your health is not a young man's game. Muscles work smoothly in the teen years, joints flex easily in the 20s. It seems like young men can eat what they want, drink what they desire, and the pounds melt away as quickly as they put them on. They can work 16-hour days, party until 3 a.m., and get up the next day and do it again. (Give or take a few bad hangovers, of course.) Life is a river, flowing to them effortlessly and endlessly. Then sometime in the middle decades -- perhaps as men hit their mid-30s and approach 40, or sometimes 50 -- the river changes.

"Kicking and screaming," according to one who was there, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Freedom of Information Act at his Texas ranch on Independence Day in 1966. On its 40th birthday, the aging FOIA needs help from a Congress that is learning the high costs of secret government, and from executive agencies that too often ignore that lesson. The problems with the FOIA could not be more current as radio talk shows thump The New York Times for having the temerity to inform Americans about what their government is doing.

A symbol of all-American hot-shot virility in adventures such as The Right Stuff and romantic capers such as The Big Easy, Dennis Quaid has always been underappreciated as an actor, as someone with more going on than dimpled cheeks and the lady-killer charm of a big, flashy grin. Of late, he's acquired some true gravitas. He outlasted a much publicized divorce from former wife Meg Ryan in 2001 and bounced right back, delivering meaty portrayals in Oscar-happy projects such as Traffic. His batting average isn't consistent (Flight of the Phoenix, yikes!

WINTER HAVEN, Fla. - Twenty seconds out of the driveway, it hit him - the wind, the chill, the foolishness. Mike Hargrove suddenly realized he was a 54-year-old man riding a Harley-Davidson on a 20-degree day in Cleveland. "Instant ice cream headache," Hargrove said with a laugh last week. "People are looking at me going, `Who is this dumb [guy]?'" Maybe Hargrove was trying to find out himself. In 13 years as a major league manager, he had a reputation for playing things by the book.

It's nearly 100 degrees outside, but Paul Johnson is burning up for an entirely different reason. "J.P.!" Johnson yells, bringing a passing drill to a dead halt. "Why are you running toward the defenders after you catch the ball instead of away from them? Tell me, is it because you're a glutton for punishment?" "No sir," answers J.P. Blecksmith, a senior wide receiver. "Because if you are, I would suggest you join the Marines where you can run up hills instead," Johnson says. "Take the ball upfield when you catch it!"

Call it the Clinton complex.Baby-boomer women who are trying to combine marriage, family and career look at the stunningly successful Hillary Rodham Clinton and wonder: "Why not me?"And men who believe that by their 30s or 40s they should have "made it," ponder a 46-year-old in the Oval Office and take a harsh look at their own accomplishments.Will Hillary and Bill inaugurate a national midlife crisis?"Yes," says psychologist Ellen McGrath of Laguna Beach and New York. "They're the epitome of our dreams and fantasies.

A symbol of all-American hot-shot virility in adventures such as The Right Stuff and romantic capers such as The Big Easy, Dennis Quaid has always been underappreciated as an actor, as someone with more going on than dimpled cheeks and the lady-killer charm of a big, flashy grin. Of late, he's acquired some true gravitas. He outlasted a much publicized divorce from former wife Meg Ryan in 2001 and bounced right back, delivering meaty portrayals in Oscar-happy projects such as Traffic. His batting average isn't consistent (Flight of the Phoenix, yikes!

Lantana is a voluptuous dance about love, pain and the whole damn thing. Made and set in Sydney, Australia, this ensemble piece about four couples crisscrossing through a possible murder may unsettle Americans accustomed to "relationship" films that mistake singleness of purpose for virtue. Lantana is fluid, vivid and free, whether in the bedroom or out of it. The male lead, an unhappy middle-aged police detective with the terrifically evocative name of Leon Zat (Anthony LaPaglia), knows he's just going through the motions despite two stalwart women in his life - his wife Sonja (Kerry Armstrong)

After Sept. 11, the stakes have been raised for touring rock bands. And U2 - never a band to shy away from a challenge - brings the goods on a tour that stops tonight at the Baltimore Arena. "We feel very blessed to be on a tour at this time in the United States," said singer Bono Monday night at Chicago's United Center. U2's songs have always addressed the big subjects: war and peace, love and betrayal, sin and faith. And those themes resonate more deeply than ever for an audience clearly starved for some sort of spiritual sustenance.