Reaching the age of fifty invites more than just a birthday. It invites reflection on the years behind us, the values that have carried us, the people who have walked alongside us, and the years yet ahead. As I mark this milestone, I feel compelled to honor not only the achievements and the quiet victories, but those who have made them possible, and to offer a message of hope for anyone who may be struggling, feeling regret or doubting what the future holds.

My life’s journey has been shaped by many things, family, faith, community, but perhaps more significantly by a long-term partnership with my own health. Living with type 2 diabetes and insulin has required me to learn patience, to embrace change and to accept that perseverance matters more than perfection. There were mornings I would wake up to glucometer tests I didn’t like, afternoons I would drag myself through fatigue, and nights I would stir with worry. Yet with each new sunrise, I came to understand that health is not purely in the lab numbers, it is in the care we receive, the hope we nurture, the relationships we keep and the strength we draw from others. Because of this, I am no longer injecting insulin and I remain on a steady path to living a healthier life!

In that context I discovered a truth that has grown clearer with fifty years under my belt: people need people to live. We cannot walk life’s path alone. It is in the quiet check-in by a friend, the gentle guidance of a mentor and the enduring presence of our manåmko’ that we find the true strength to face both peaks and valleys.

Our manåmko’ are often the unseen cornerstone of our lives. They carry stories of resilience, of community, of patience, and they model for us that success is not measured solely by what we have done, but by how we have treated others, how we have held onto our roots while embracing change. From them, I have learned to slow down, to listen, to embrace gratitude and to view each day as a choice to give as much as to receive.

Fifty years gives you perspective. I look back not simply at personal goals met, but at the many people who stood beside me: parents who believed, friends who laughed and cried with me, elders who guided, community members whose faith in me became a fuel. Each of these relationships taught me that life’s true worth is found not in titles or certificates, but in the depth of human connection and the richness of shared experience.

I also look around and see so many in our community right now carrying silent burdens: health challenges, lost opportunities, unresolved regrets, relationships that frayed, hopes that dimmed. If you are reading this and feel weighed down by your past, uncertain about your future, I want to tell you this: this birthday, this moment, can be your reminder; your fork in the road to hold onto hope.

I recall this story: A host once offered a guest a fork and quietly said, “Hold on to this fork because the best is yet to come.” It sounds simple, almost whimsical. But in that “fork” lies a metaphor: the wisdom that even when part of the meal is done and the plates cleared, the next course, the next chapter, is still being prepared. Just because you have tasted hardship, disappointment, or loss, it doesn’t mean the sweetness of the future is gone.

So, allow me to impart some experience:

1. Regret is not a life sentence. Acknowledge it, learn from it, then release it. The past is not the prison; it is the teacher.

2. Hope is not an afterthought, it’s a decision. Choose today to step into the next course, to believe that your story isn’t over because you are still here.

3. Reach for people. If you’re isolated, reach out. If you feel weak, accept help. If you feel strong, offer help. We are woven together by our humanity.

4. Celebrate the small victories. Maybe your lab numbers improved, maybe you walked a little farther than yesterday, maybe you asked for help. These are not trivial, they are indicators of life moving forward.

5. Honor our manåmko’. Visit them, listen to them, learn from them. Their lives show us what a full life looks like, and their faith in us often becomes our strength.

As I step into my next fifty years, I carry with me the truth that life, in all its beauty and struggle, becomes truly meaningful when it is shared. The dinner is not over, the fork is still in my hand, and I invite you to pick up your fork, too, because the best is yet to come.

To all who have walked with me, to every friend and elder, to anyone reading this who has ever felt alone, you are not alone. Together we move forward, and together we live. People need people to live.

Si Yu’os tiguang-mo!

Jesse L.G. Alig is the Mayor of Piti and President of the Mayors’ Council of Guam. He turned 50 on October 17, 2025.