I’m button-burstingly proud to announce that, in two days, I’ll be celebrating my trombone birthday. You know which one that is: “76 trombones led the big parade!”
Some of us try to turn back our life’s odometer. Others of us want people to know why we look this way. We admit that we have bumps and dents and scratches in our finish and the paint job is getting a little dull. And sure, the fenders are too wide to be in style and our seats are sagging. The battery no longer holds a charge, and the headlights have dimmed. The hoses are brittle, and much of the original tire tread is worn away. The transmission stays in low gear and doesn’t easily shift to high. We don’t convert our fuel as efficiently as we used to, and climbing any hill is liable to cause sputtering. And whenever we sneeze or cough, our radiator seems to leak.
But you know what? We’ve traveled many, many miles, and some of the roads weren’t paved. Wisdom and laughter are our shock absorbers. We’ve become classics.
And we’re not alone: 518 million men and women worldwide are 65 or older, including more than one out of every eight people (13.4 percent) in the United States.
I’m no longer a spring chicken; I’m a winter chicken. I’m no longer wet behind the ears; I’m dry behind the years. I’m no longer knee high to a grasshopper; I’m sky high above a grasshopper. I’m not a has-been. I’m an about-to-be.
While growing older is mandatory, feeling old is optional. Attitude is ageless. More than two millennia ago, the Greek playwright Sophocles wrote, “One must wait until the evening to see how splendid the day has been.” Only at sunset is the day truly golden. The later the hour of the day, the longer the shadow you cast.
I may be over the hill, but that’s better than being under the hill — and it’s not till you’re going downhill that you really pick up speed! Birthdays are good for you: The more of them you have, the longer you live.
There is only one way to live a long life, and that is to age. And there is only one way to age — with a smile. If you are able to laugh at yourself, you’ll never cease to be amused. After all, you’re only old once.
Now that I am full of years and white of hair and the evening star glows in the sky, now that my sere, my yellow leaf falls from bare, ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang, I find myself filled with one overmastering emotion:
Gratitude —
For my wife, Simone van Egeren, and the saucy Holland days I have so loved with her; for family, which now embraces seven grandchildren; for enduring friendships; for a lifelong addiction to learning; for the privilege of sharing my words about words in this space; and for the astonishing gift of life: what it has been and what it will become. Hurrah!
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