Chicago Sun-Times: Life doesn't begin until 40 if you're 'young and foolish'

Democratic U.S. Senate candidate Blair Hull was, apparently, still in his "young and foolish" phase when he was in his 40s. Congressman Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) was committing what he'd later call "youthful indiscretions" -- a years-long affair with a married mother of three - - when he was in his 40s, too. Even the president, who adopted the mantra, "When I was young and irresponsible, I was young and irresponsible," to answer questions about his past during the 2000 campaign, was arrested for drunken driving at 30 and didn't quit drinking until he was born again at age 40, when his twin daughters were already 5 years old.

It's enough to make me wonder if I haven't grown up a little too quickly, since, at 30, I'm starting to consider myself a responsible adult.

In fact, I've been feeling like life from here on out might be, well, a little boring. Sedate. Like it's time to settle down, make some commitments and give up whatever bad habits -- cheese fries, "The Real World," bounced checks -- have lingered since college.

Don't normal people run?

Then I heard about the latest revelation to come from the parade of dysfunctional rich guys that is Illinois' Senate race.

In case you haven't been keeping track, the Democratic candidates got together Wednesday evening for their last debate before Tuesday's primary. The topic of illegal drug use came up. A couple of the candidates, State Comptroller Dan Hynes and former Chicago School Board President Gery Chico admitted to using marijuana in college. And state Sen. Barack Obama, the front-runner, had previously admitted to using cocaine as a teenager.

But Blair Hull -- who just does not seem to have thought this whole I'm-going-to-run-for-office-and-become-a-public-figure thing through -- topped them all with his admissions that he's done coke, smoked pot and been to alcohol rehab twice. Then Hull, a 61-year-old zillionaire who made some of his money as a professional blackjack player, brushed off the issue, saying he hadn't used illegal drugs in a "substantial amount of time" and, besides, it had all happened during a "young and foolish" period of his life, 20 years ago.

When he was 40.

What's the blooming problem?

I find this phenomenon very exciting. Because, frankly, I had no idea I had so much time left to keep screwing up. In fact, I have not yet begun to fool around.

The disciplinarian at my elementary school was a woman named Alma C. Schwartz. She was, in my memory, a deeply unhappy person, given to wearing scratchy wool blazers that did not quite fit over her enormous rear-end. The phrase "permanent record," when uttered in her harsh, nasal voice, was enough to scare me off from most any form of disobedience for decades to come.

Every now and then, when my inherently smart-assed nature would bubble up to the surface of my otherwise geeky persona, and I would be tempted to break a rule -- like, say, working some editorial commentary into my regular reading of the morning announcements -- she would at look me, glinting over her reading glasses with her cold, dead eyes, and ask, "Miss Pickett, do you really hope to attend Harvard?"

I grew up believing that if I made just one mistake, I'd never realize my Ivy League ambitions. I never expected the seemingly limitless second chances that followed around privileged late bloomers like George W.

And then I didn't get into Harvard anyway. Which was about the time I started to wonder if maybe I was living wrong.

Now I know for sure.

Does life begin at 40?

Being an "early bloomer," one of those preternaturally mature people who goes to school, gets a job and generally lives life on the straight and narrow, gets you nothing. Nothing except a killer mid- life crisis that will derail the illustrious career you spent so much time establishing for yourself.

But if you wander through your 20s, party through your 30s and then break whatever taboos are left as you enter your 40s, you will be perfectly positioned to make a very successful go of things -- once you've gotten all that out of your system -- in your 50s.

You could still impeach a president.

Or even become one.

This understanding is incredibly liberating. It's changed my whole perspective on the aging process so that instead of dreading getting ever older and duller, I am now looking forward to the next decade or so as period of wild exploration and experimentation.

I'm going to stay out all night, experiment with illegal substances and, quite possibly, go heavy on carbs at breakfast, lunch and dinner. The police will probably get called to my apartment, and it's safe to say some hearts will be broken.

Sure, I might have to detox for a while afterwards or issue a lame public apology.

But, overall, being foolish, indiscrete and irresponsible will be a blast.

And I'll still be able to run for office when it's over.