I just turned 61, and I can’t think of a better way to mark the moment than the trip I just returned from—Colorado, to see my daughter. It was more than a visit; it felt like a pilgrimage.
We hiked three unforgettable trails:
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Thunderhead Trail at Steamboat Springs Resort: 3.6 miles climbing 2,244 feet—straight up into the sky.
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T-Bar Trail via the Blackmer trailhead: 3.88 miles, 964 feet of vertical grit and beauty.
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And finally, the crown jewel: the Zirkel Circle—11.43 miles with a 2,680-foot elevation gain, winding past alpine wonders like Gold and Gilpin Lakes. It was majestic. Soul-satisfying. The kind of hike that makes your legs scream and your heart sing.
We also took on a 60-mile gravel bike ride from Hayden to Craig and back—an unrelenting 3,576 feet of elevation gain. My e-bike battery gave out at mile 40. That last 20 miles? All me, a heavy frame, and a headwind that wouldn’t quit. I rolled into town spent—and strangely proud. The rental shop didn’t even charge me. They said, “You’ve paid enough.” I believed them.
But here’s what I came away with: this was a birthday season, not just a day. One full of beauty, effort, family, and awe. And it got me thinking—not just about where I was, but where I am.
I was born on August 6, 1964, in Birmingham, Alabama—a city still smoldering from the civil rights fires, both literal and spiritual. I don’t remember those early years, but the atmosphere lingered. My earliest memories—maybe 1969 or 1970—were shaped by echoes of unrest. The air carried tension, hope, and fear.
We were a blue-collar family. We didn’t shape the headlines—we lived beneath them.
By the numbers, I’m a Baby Boomer. But I’ve never quite felt like one.
I wasn’t born into post-war prosperity. I didn’t grow up in the glow of Leave It to Beaver—I just watched reruns and wondered if anyone actually lived like that. My experience was more like Gen X: skeptical, restless, raised on the edge of institutions that seemed solid… until they cracked.
I’ve come to learn there’s a name for people like me: “cuspers.” Born in the in-between. Not quite Boomers, not quite Gen X. We borrowed language from both sides but never quite found a home.
We remember rotary phones and typewriters, but we’ve outlived them all. We were taught to respect authority—then watched Watergate, Vietnam, and televangelist scandals undo that trust. We were promised stability, then handed reinvention.
Sometimes I feel like I’m holding a translator’s pen—explaining one generation to another, while not fully belonging to either. And now, at 61, I still ask: Where is my voice? Where is my place?
To be honest, I worry that my own brand of stoicism and selfishness is the worst of both labels. That in the cusp, the danger is inheriting the shadow without the shine.
You’d think I’d have found the answer by now—carved out a niche, felt settled in my skin. But I still wake up with questions:
Am I doing what I’m called to do?
Have I used my time well?
Is my voice making any difference?There’s an ache in still searching at 61. But I’m learning not to despise it. In a world noisy with opinion and echo, maybe those of us who’ve lived in both silence and sound are uniquely positioned—not to shout, but to sing something true.
I don’t want to find my voice just to leave a mark. I want to use it to build a bridge. Between generations. Between the world I inherited and the world I see coming. Between the faith I was handed and the faith I’ve wrestled with in the wilderness.
Maybe being lost in the cusp is exactly where I need to be. Maybe that edge is the place where poets speak, where tension gives birth to traction, and where a clearer perspective grows.
So here I am. Still hiking. Still writing blog posts and lyrics for songs, Still wondering. Still trusting that God isn’t finished with me yet. And loving life because of God's promises and His presence.
If you feel caught between eras, ideas, or expectations—welcome. There’s room in the cusp. And maybe, just maybe, we’re the ones who get to build something lasting. Because we’ve lived through so many shifting sands.
I’m still searching.
But the search?
It keeps me young.
It keeps me moving.
And it keeps me hoping.
What would be a good birthday present? Just visit this blog and read. Find my songs on SoundCloud and see if you hear the message- it is all designed to proclaim that God is good and I am a sinner saved by grace. Then write a note and tell me what you think, even if you hate it. Let's talk about it. Ask me dangerous.......
Watch me long enough and I will disappoint you- but Jesus never will.
Music: Jayopsis
Blog: Jayopsis.com
YouTube: Winning Edges
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