A view under the Michigan Ave. bridge over the Chicago River in Chicago, Ill., Thursday, January 6, 2011.

On the eve of my 30th birthday, I’ll freely admit that I’ve been guilty of reminiscing far beyond my favorite photos of 2011. With each bridge crossed on a mental journey back through time, old memories of each decade passed resurface with increasingly clarity: A family member excited that I’d be turning ten that week, back in 1991. Or, my 18th birthday in 1999 spent at Theatre at the Center subbing for a crew member – the stage manager bought me a cake! There was my 20th birthday in 2001, where I was down-trodden about a relationship that had just ended. And, believe it or not, I remember my third birthday in 1984, where a cousin at my party insisted that she squeeze into the chair with me behind my cake as my family sang Happy Birthday. As with present-day Guy, three-year-old Guy wasn’t too happy with that!

Truth be told, I still feel as youthful as I did on all those birthdays past. It’s only the world around me that has started to throw indicators my way that my youth might be fleeting. At a high school dance show I lit back in November, the choreographer threw me for a loop by referring to me as “Mr. Rhodes” in front of the entire company. “Mister? Yer killin’ me!”, I thought. On my photo assignments, mothers with young children are increasingly telling the young ones to look towards the, “