It is one thing to see an age as just a number, but
something quite different when that number becomes your age.
Such is the case every July 2, as this Eisenhower
Administration baby will head into year number 62 on this planet around 6:30 PM this evening. What seemed
to be an “old” age of 60 is now just a number that has passed by and not really a state of mind.
The scars of living more than six decades on this planet are there …
the left pinky can’t be straightened anymore, thanks to that fall off the
scaffolding during Tulip Time last year; there’s an empty space now where a upper
molar in the mouth used to be before the filling fell out of that tooth last month; the marks
from skin grafts on the legs caused by hot engine coolant splashing up from
around the fire wall and into the passenger compartment of a Renault Alliance
in 1991 are still visible; it has been nearly 20 years since glasses were
needed full time; hearing in the right ear is still OK, although an aid would
help (but that is still not an option due to economic reasons).
However, the mind is still as keen as ever (though some of
you may beg to differ, based on what you hear during the program and what you
read here and on our social media sites), the voice remains strong, and it’s
nice to not even think about turning back the clock, even if it were possible.
It’s better to have more of your life in the rear view mirror than looking at
it ahead through the windshield, trust me.
The title of this post is based on a Bernie Taupin/Elton
John song of nearly five decades ago:
Who'll walk me down to church when I'm sixty
years of age
When the ragged dog they gave me has been ten years in the grave
And senorita play guitar, play it just for you
My rosary has broken and my beads have all slipped through
You've hung up your great coat and you've laid
down your gun
You know the war you fought in wasn't too much fun
And the future you're giving me holds nothing for a gun
I've no wish to be living sixty years on
Yes I'll sit with you and talk let your eyes
relive again
I know my vintage prayers would be very much the same
And Magdelena plays the organ, plays it just for you
Your choral lamp that burns so low when you are passing through
And the future you're
giving me holds nothing for a gun
I've no wish to be living sixty years on
Sixty Years On lyrics © Universal Music
Publishing Group
Boy, how looking at and living “Sixty Years On” has changed since those lyrics were penned in 1970!
Thanks!
