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AGE IS NOTHING
BUT A LOUSY NUMBER |
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I had a birthday last week. It was no ordinary birthday, nor
was it one of those decade birthdays that cause so much angst, like your
40th, 60th or 80th.
This was much worse, at least for any baby boomer and fan of
The Beatles. (If you're neither, you might not understand this column.)
Yes, I turned 64.
How did that happen? It seems like only yesterday I was
singing along with Paul McCartney, wondering how anyone could be that old.
"Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When
I'm 64."
I always loved that song, until now. It was a cute melody
about old people, and I wasn't one of them. Now I'm losing my hair and
I've got a grandchild on my knee, just as Paul predicted. I'm not saying
that's bad, I'm just saying I never thought it would happen.
"I could be handy, mending a fuse, When your lights
have gone. You can knit a sweater by the fireside, Sunday mornings go for
a ride."
LEAVE ME ALONE, MCCARTNEY! I DON'T WANT TO GO THERE YET! I'M
NOT READY!
My grandparents went for Sunday morning rides. And neither my
wife or I have ever knitted anything in our lives. Despite the hair and
grandchildren, the song couldn't be about me.
"Doing the garden, digging the weeds, Who could ask
for more? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm
sixty-four?"
More evidence it has nothing to do with me. I don't do
gardening and I don't dig weeds---it's not my thing. I'm not even retired.
I've got a long life ahead of me. GET OFF MY BACK, PAUL!
"Send me a postcard, drop me a line, Stating point of
view. Indicate precisely what you mean to say, Yours sincerely, wasting
away."
WASTING AWAY! HOW RUDE CAN YOU GET, YOU FLOPPY HAIRED JERK?!
Of course, when the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
album was released in 1967, and "When I'm 64" was included, I
was only 13. For the next 50 years I thought the song was hilarious. Not
anymore.
McCartney's probably not laughing about it much, either. He
wrote the song at the tender age of 16, and then refined it for the Sgt.
Pepper album, when it was released. He's now 76, wishing he was 64.
Or maybe not, because it wasn't a great year for him. He
divorced his second wife, Heather Mills, when he was 64. That line in the
song, "Who could ask for more?" probably stung a little bit,
considering she walked away with $38.5 million.
It's actually a lovely song, though, about a couple growing
old together. So when I woke up on my 64th birthday last week, I naturally
had some questions for my wife.
"Will you still need me, will you still feed me?" I
asked, not exactly in tune.
She rolled over, still half-asleep. "I suppose,"
she replied. "As long as you don't sing to me."
Deal. I popped out of bed and contemplated once again the
absurdity of turning 64. It was an age that always seemed so far away, so
foreign, so ridiculously old.
But that was 50 years ago. In 1942, when McCartney was born,
the average life expectancy for a British male was 63. By 2030, it will be
86. In other words, it's clearly time to update the title. "When I'm
84" has a much nicer ring to it.
I pulled out the lyrics from the internet and, after making
sure no one was around, sang the song with the age change. It worked. I
suddenly felt 20 years younger.
"Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When
I'm eighty-four?"
Now we're talking, Paul and me, just like the old days.
Neither one of us was even close to 84, and if that birthday does ever
come around for me, I could envision going for Sunday rides and maybe even
doing a little gardening and weed-pulling, assuming I've got the strength.
That vision, I fully expect, will last for the next 20 years.
Because if and when I turn 84, I'll be changing the lyrics again.
"Hundred and four" may not be the right cadence for the song,
but it's going to work for me.
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