The following blog was an article published October 2011 in The American Journal, My Generation
When I’m Sixty-Four
When I was twelve, I was told I would not live to see my eighteenth birthday. No it was not due to a dreaded diagnosis. I was innocently standing around the dinner table and Uncle Ralph who my mother always referred to as a “jack-leg preacher”, was proclaiming authoritatively that the time of Armageddon was upon us and the signs were clear.
“It is time for you to get ready to meet your God, young lady. You won’t live to be eighteen.” he said glaring into my unblinking wide eyes.
I remember being speechless with my jaw locked open. By the time I had a moment for it to sink in, he had turned back to the dinner table where other relatives seemed to be soaking up his every word. He lit his Camel cigarette and blowing smoke into the already smoky dining room, continued to talk about the undeniable predictions that were in the Bible.
When I turned eighteen it was a silent internal celebration that my uncle was not getting his information from the universal source of life and knowledge. Actually, Uncle Ralph died several years later of emphysema. Upon my visits, he never mentioned his dinner table admonition to me nor I to him.
This early brush with my prognosticated demise was actually very helpful to me in many ways. It has helped me question what I am told and to be not so afraid to take a look at my own mortality. It also added to my interest in pursuing my own purpose in life and following my heart at an early age.
You can learn a lot from a song. The 1967 song “When I’m Sixty-Four” written by Lennon and McCartney portrays a young man (though gender is never actually stated, it is implied) sending out a marriage proposal of sorts, in musical verse. This is not necessarily a face-to-face connection since he asks for a post card or perhaps a letter as his reply.
I contacted Virginia Ironside (also from Britain) who has written a book I’m Old, You’re Old, Get Used to It. She starts her book talking about this song being “rather condescending” with verses implying sixty-four year olds have limited capabilities like mending a fuse, weeding, and knitting. However, the promise of “scrimping and saving” is balanced with the pleasures of grandparenthood.
Personally, I appreciate the idea of having someone else deal with the circuits in my house and I can use all the help I can get with weeding. I like the idea of the insight this young man has for planning ahead. Often the motivation of a younger person is effected if not totally driven by hormones and sex appeal. It is like finances and curb appeal when you are thinking about buying a house. If you want to stay in the house for thirty years to outlive the mortgage, then it is important to look beneath the surface and find out the structural condition. Who buys a house without an inspection anyway? Parents are sometimes a good resource for either purchasing a house or picking a partner, though I personally never followed their advice for either commitment.
In this song there are many questions asked and information given to the potential mate. The young man clearly wants children since it is virtually impossible to have grandchildren if children are not in the picture first. He still wants to hang out with his buddies with some assurance that he will not be locked out of the house if he does. He likes vacations, and riding around, and he is not above being financially appropriate by noting if what they want is affordable.
Feeding and needing are so important that they are mentioned three times in the song. Fulfilling nutritional and other needs are definitely a priority as they should be.
One of the differences in the American and British cultures seems to be the viewpoint about sex. There seems to be a kind of competition in this country about the amount of sex we can expect, as we are growing older. If you are not doing it often enough then there are prescriptions obtainable to supply the motivation.
Virginia Ironside writes, “As for sex, frankly I had enough in the ‘sixties, and one of the great relief of getting old is that you DON’T have to think or talk about it all the time…. I’m fed to the back teeth with it.”
The point of exploring these two cultural differences is that each culture gives permission to either pharmaceutically alter the libidinal slowing down process or accept this process and appreciate the freedom from hormonal control of priorities and possible loss of prudent behaviors.
I polled many of my friends who hover just before 64 like me or who are slightly past it. Most say that their life has taken them on a much more positive journey than they ever thought about in their youth. They report living in a world that their imagination could not foretell. Others shared that they had no idea they would live to be as old as they are and are not too sure they are interested in living a lot longer. “Wasting away” with the mention of gray hair is the least of most worries.
My mother used to complain about her birthdays because they were a sign she was getting older. My father rejoiced with every birthday saying he would take all the birthdays he could get. Attitude did not seem to affect their longevity as they both lived well into their nineties.
There seems to be a theme running through the media lately that has brought me back to my Bible belt roots. With predictions about global warming and the ice caps melting and pollution, it brings up the Nostradamus’ prophesies and the ending of the Mayan Calendar next year. When my borrowed time comes due, whether I leave this life single file or en masse, I want to be able to say that I appreciated every precious moment…even the hard ones. The movements, marches, and madness of my generation have inspired me throughout my life’s journey and I look forward to more.
In my teens I was preparing myself for not living to be 64, so I have been winging it now for over 50 years. The recent news about the rapture and the disappointment expressed by people who were depending on that event to take them out of earthly suffering certainly had an effect on me. I will admit I was concerned about the slight risk that I might be whisked heavenward on that fateful day. My concerns were relieved when I asked a friend about the possibility. She said she was pretty sure that devout Unitarians like me were not on the rapture list.
When I’m Sixty-Four
When I was twelve, I was told I would not live to see my eighteenth birthday. No it was not due to a dreaded diagnosis. I was innocently standing around the dinner table and Uncle Ralph who my mother always referred to as a “jack-leg preacher”, was proclaiming authoritatively that the time of Armageddon was upon us and the signs were clear.
“It is time for you to get ready to meet your God, young lady. You won’t live to be eighteen.” he said glaring into my unblinking wide eyes.
I remember being speechless with my jaw locked open. By the time I had a moment for it to sink in, he had turned back to the dinner table where other relatives seemed to be soaking up his every word. He lit his Camel cigarette and blowing smoke into the already smoky dining room, continued to talk about the undeniable predictions that were in the Bible.
When I turned eighteen it was a silent internal celebration that my uncle was not getting his information from the universal source of life and knowledge. Actually, Uncle Ralph died several years later of emphysema. Upon my visits, he never mentioned his dinner table admonition to me nor I to him.
This early brush with my prognosticated demise was actually very helpful to me in many ways. It has helped me question what I am told and to be not so afraid to take a look at my own mortality. It also added to my interest in pursuing my own purpose in life and following my heart at an early age.
You can learn a lot from a song. The 1967 song “When I’m Sixty-Four” written by Lennon and McCartney portrays a young man (though gender is never actually stated, it is implied) sending out a marriage proposal of sorts, in musical verse. This is not necessarily a face-to-face connection since he asks for a post card or perhaps a letter as his reply.
I contacted Virginia Ironside (also from Britain) who has written a book I’m Old, You’re Old, Get Used to It. She starts her book talking about this song being “rather condescending” with verses implying sixty-four year olds have limited capabilities like mending a fuse, weeding, and knitting. However, the promise of “scrimping and saving” is balanced with the pleasures of grandparenthood.
Personally, I appreciate the idea of having someone else deal with the circuits in my house and I can use all the help I can get with weeding. I like the idea of the insight this young man has for planning ahead. Often the motivation of a younger person is effected if not totally driven by hormones and sex appeal. It is like finances and curb appeal when you are thinking about buying a house. If you want to stay in the house for thirty years to outlive the mortgage, then it is important to look beneath the surface and find out the structural condition. Who buys a house without an inspection anyway? Parents are sometimes a good resource for either purchasing a house or picking a partner, though I personally never followed their advice for either commitment.
In this song there are many questions asked and information given to the potential mate. The young man clearly wants children since it is virtually impossible to have grandchildren if children are not in the picture first. He still wants to hang out with his buddies with some assurance that he will not be locked out of the house if he does. He likes vacations, and riding around, and he is not above being financially appropriate by noting if what they want is affordable.
Feeding and needing are so important that they are mentioned three times in the song. Fulfilling nutritional and other needs are definitely a priority as they should be.
One of the differences in the American and British cultures seems to be the viewpoint about sex. There seems to be a kind of competition in this country about the amount of sex we can expect, as we are growing older. If you are not doing it often enough then there are prescriptions obtainable to supply the motivation.
Virginia Ironside writes, “As for sex, frankly I had enough in the ‘sixties, and one of the great relief of getting old is that you DON’T have to think or talk about it all the time…. I’m fed to the back teeth with it.”
The point of exploring these two cultural differences is that each culture gives permission to either pharmaceutically alter the libidinal slowing down process or accept this process and appreciate the freedom from hormonal control of priorities and possible loss of prudent behaviors.
I polled many of my friends who hover just before 64 like me or who are slightly past it. Most say that their life has taken them on a much more positive journey than they ever thought about in their youth. They report living in a world that their imagination could not foretell. Others shared that they had no idea they would live to be as old as they are and are not too sure they are interested in living a lot longer. “Wasting away” with the mention of gray hair is the least of most worries.
My mother used to complain about her birthdays because they were a sign she was getting older. My father rejoiced with every birthday saying he would take all the birthdays he could get. Attitude did not seem to affect their longevity as they both lived well into their nineties.
There seems to be a theme running through the media lately that has brought me back to my Bible belt roots. With predictions about global warming and the ice caps melting and pollution, it brings up the Nostradamus’ prophesies and the ending of the Mayan Calendar next year. When my borrowed time comes due, whether I leave this life single file or en masse, I want to be able to say that I appreciated every precious moment…even the hard ones. The movements, marches, and madness of my generation have inspired me throughout my life’s journey and I look forward to more.
In my teens I was preparing myself for not living to be 64, so I have been winging it now for over 50 years. The recent news about the rapture and the disappointment expressed by people who were depending on that event to take them out of earthly suffering certainly had an effect on me. I will admit I was concerned about the slight risk that I might be whisked heavenward on that fateful day. My concerns were relieved when I asked a friend about the possibility. She said she was pretty sure that devout Unitarians like me were not on the rapture list.