The Beatles song, When I’m 64, appeared on the Sgt. Pepper’s album in 1967. Each of the four band members were in their twenties at the time. This year, Paul and Ringo – the two who are still with us – will turn 78 and 80, respectively. They may be losing their hair but, as far as I know, they aren’t filling their days mending fuses and digging weeds, nor are they scrimping and saving so they can rent a cottage on the Isle of Wight.
I was eleven when the album was released, and 64 sounded ancient to me. Now that I’m that age, I’ve discovered that it isn’t so old after all. I’m happy to say that, yes, they still need me and, yes, they still feed me, when I’m 64.
A few days ago, as I was thinking about my birthday, this poem started to write itself in my head. It’s about how the way we think of ourselves matters, and it is often our choice.
We Get to Choose
I am old
I am young
I see the finish line
I’ve just begun
I’ve seen it all
So much to see
I’ve set my limits
I am free
I’ve lived my life
I haven’t yet
My options are few
Nothing is set
Each is different
Both are true
It’s up to me
Which one I choose
Retirementally Challenged 