I’ve recently been asking friends, family members and strangers how they felt when they turned twenty-nine years old, and mostly I’ve been getting the same replies. The consensus seems to be, that turning twenty-nine is supposedly a depressing time, but that thirty is the best thing in the world. Seems kind of strange to me.

Isn’t the idea that at twenty-nine you have one more year to “live it up” so to speak, before you hit the big 3-0? How can that be depressing? Shouldn’t one feel good about their final year as a twenty-something, or is the thought that once you turn thirty you are starting fresh and leaving behind some regrets or mistakes of your twenties, and the last year is a purgatory of sorts? Whatever, these are all meaningless numbers anyway, right?

A week from today, I turn twenty-nine. I don’t really feel depressed or conflicted or anything like that. There’s a lot on the horizon for me that I have to be excited about. I’ve been told by some that I’m a bit of a “past-dweller,” but I don’t necessarily agree. I’m just very nostalgic and I tend to reminisce. But it’s not so much that I yearn for days gone by as much as I want to incorporate certain old-school stuff from my youth into my present life, and carry those ideals into my family today. I wouldn’t say I feel old now, but I certainly do feel my age. I’m far from a kid. This year, my eighteen-year-old brother graduates high school, and then will be off to college. I still think of him as a baby and remember changing his diapers and feeding him pastina like it was yesterday. In July, I’ll be changing diapers when my firstborn son arrives.

They say “it takes a village to raise a child.” With me, that was very true. My village was my family. I was lucky enough to be born at the perfect time. I grew up with a HUGE family, and although my little brother didn’t come along until I was almost eleven, I was always surrounded with lots of cousins my age and I benefited from that immensely. My childhood wasn’t perfect, but I always felt safe, I always felt secure, and I always felt loved. My parents had a lot of help from all my relatives, and that added so much to my childhood. I’m so grateful for having a traditional, cohesive home life, filled with culture and religion and, as I said, most importantly—love. I think always having an open display of love for one another is what it’s all about, no matter what kind of family unit you have.

I was taught the importance of family and friends, and that’s been engrained in me, and will never diminish. Most folks who were raised Italian-Catholic, like I was, can easily relate to that. It’s the times you spend with your loved ones that are the most precious and treasured, because life is too short, and the time you have together doesn’t last forever. This was instilled in me since I was very young. Besides having both parents at home, I was fortunate enough to know and love two sets of grandparents, as well as a wonderful great-grandmother and great-grandfather. Both my grandfathers and great-grandparents have passed on now but my two grandmothers are still with us, thank God.

I think being around my grandparents and great-grandparents so much not only gave me my values for the perpetuation of the old neighborhood Italian rituals, it also taught me the perspective of being humble and not automatically expecting things like too many kids do now. There was never any “sense of entitlement,” and I wasn’t given hundreds of options on everything. I think in a lot of ways, that is what’s hurting the youth of America today. When my mother and grandmother cooked dinner, we ate whatever it was, and we loved it. I didn’t know what a Big Mac was, whereas today, junk food is a child’s automatic default snack. So that’s all they know, whereas, I was given fresh fruit. We never owned a microwave until I was in high school. Meals were balanced and portion control was taught. While I certainly applaud the efforts of the great Jamie Oliver, and think his “Food Revolution” concept is absolutely essential, back then we did not his help us with such basic principles. But that’s for a whole other discussion.

We didn’t take exotic vacations to the Bahamas either, we went down the shore and up to Lake George. And it was great. Even kindergartners now I see wearing designer clothes. What million dollar moniker is prominently positioned on an item for the world to see was not of the utmost importance to my mom when she dressed me, but I was still a very stylish kid. Even today, the only status symbol I need is my Johnny D. confidence. Yes, now I do own some Ed Hardy clothes, but I don’t need that stuff to serve as luxury tokens of self-worth. Buying something just for a label and having name brand loyalty are not the same things, and I was taught the latter—especially with food products. Our emphasis was placed on seeking out the highest level of quality with what you put on the dinner table.

Don’t misunderstand my message here, we were not poor, I mean I went to private Catholic school. But I was taught that even things like turning on the air conditioner was a privilege. Mostly we just opened the windows and used the attic fan if we had to. An outdoor breeze was my point of reference for what was “normal,” so it’s not like I felt deprived in any way that I didn’t sleep in North Pole conditions when it was 80 degrees outside. Even today, I have to be really sweating terribly to turn on the AC.

This upbringing also broadened my understanding of past pop culture and social studies—with these family members acting as the professors. Being such an old-soul, I find that often when I meet new people, they think I’m actually a lot older than I am as I’m able to identify with certain things they’d otherwise think I’d have no clue about. Just because something is before my time technically, doesn’t mean I don’t know about it. I guess, to some, this could be just a lot of knowledge of useless history, but it’s an important part of who I am.

When I was real young, I was exposed to music from the ‘50s and ‘60s even though my dad was my age during the ‘70s. I’d also watch reruns of shows like “The Honeymooners” and “All In The Family” and flicks like “Ocean’s Eleven” (the original, not the George Clooney knock-off). I’d listen to every kind of music from doo-wop to disco. Same with cars, we liked old ones with character. I’ll take a classic Monte Carlo over a brand new Lexus in a heartbeat. In certain ways, I guess you could say my family was behind a few decades, but it’s just that there was such an intense appreciation and respect for the previous generations. And the fact that we all spent so much time together naturally made us all take interest in everything as a family.

Now, the ‘80s and early ‘90s is my period of nostalgia, and what I prefer over most new millennium things. I have a fondness for the original Mario Bros. game on the original 8-bit Nintendo, that Wii handle just seems odd to me. My father had an Atari he occasionally used, but he was from the “playing outside” generation, and most of the time, I was outside, too. I still prefer my cassette mix tapes over CDs or I-Pods (or whatever the new thing is now). Call me “analog,” I don’t care. I grew up where we all played records on a ’55 Motorola jukebox, which my dad still uses. His living room is full of antiques like that. As I said in my Easter blog, this all goes back to being I-TABANAR (Identifiable-Through-A-Birthplace-A-Nationality-And-Religion), where the current decade is irrelevant and the hot trend is not important. You just live the way you know—based on how you were raised and where you come from—it’s something you embrace to retain your roots.

I grew up with ten first cousins from five sets of aunts and uncles who were around daily. My godfather always visited, along with lots of second cousins, great uncles and aunts, and distant relatives from Long Island to Canada to Italy. And of course, there were always friends who were just like family, always present. Every year, along with my St. Michael’s schoolmates, we’d all get together on my birthday at Show-Biz Pizza in Hackensack, which had Pac-Man and other arcade games, some rides, a ballcrawl, plus a band of mechanical puppet creatures—bears and dogs who rocked out and played Michael Jackson songs, and all the hits of the era. I waited all year for that. It didn’t cost upwards of $500 like some of the over-the-top affairs kids get in this day, and I wasn’t overly spoiled with countless lavish gifts. Were things that much simpler when I grew up or was all this strictly based on my particular upbringing?

When I moved out of my parents’ house and got my own apartment after my twenty-first birthday, lots of things changed, for lots of reasons. While we all tried to remain close, people moved away and grew apart. The bond never died though, and it never will. I still see my cousins and extended family at all the holidays and other get-togethers that we have throughout the year, but I wish I could see them more like we used to when we were all kids. If you can keep that connection and always maintain that through the phone and over things like facebook, that’s very important. And with youtube, it’s like having a time machine at your disposal, where you can type in any song, show or toy from when you were young and see it pop up on the screen—instantly transporting you back. So see, I am evolved somewhat, I can use a computer, but I’m far from tech savvy. I will admit, it took a lot for me to set up this blog. My parents can’t even understand the concept of what a blog is. They can’t even turn on a computer. Call that completely de-evolved or anti-progressive, but God bless them, they are happy.

The bottom line is, growing up is inevitable, but growing apart shouldn’t be. And while your past doesn’t have to define your future, it is always a part of you—especially if that is what shaped you into your present self. No matter where I go from here, Pluto will always be a planet to me.