Everyone Hum Along Now...

In 1967 when Paul McCartney penned the lyrics and melody for this song to be included in their The Beatles Sgt. Pepper's Heart Club Band, I had just graduated from high school, was anticipating beginning my freshman year in college, TIME magazine had named my generation as their "Man of the Year," and I was otherwise preoccupied with any member of the fairer sex that possessed legs that began at the bottom on their feet and concluded with a winning personality at the opposite end.

"When I get older,

losing my hair,

many years from now.

Will you still be sending me a Valentine,

birthday greetings, a bottle of wine?"

Any meandering thoughts of what the future might have in store for me that stretched beyond the next impromptu gathering of my high school running mates dissolved into a youthful belief that my growing older was an eventuality that was best left unexplored.

"If I've been out

till quarter of three.

will you lock the door?

Will you still need me?

Will you still feed me,

When I'm sixty-four?"

I remember thinking, some few years later as I watched a Saturday afternoon football game on television, that as long as the athletes and cheerleaders on the screen didn't look any different in appearance than me, that I hadn't perceptibly grown any older. And then one Saturday afternoon...they did.

"I could be handy mending a fuse,

when your lights are gone.

You can knit a sweater by the fireside,

Sunday morning go for a ride."

"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?"

Now, some 46 years past my 18th birthday, my totally gray hair has at least had the hereditary decency to keep from falling out completely, although the hairline is most assuredly advancing like a thawing iceberg toward the nape of my neck. I collect social security rather than a steady paycheck. My wife and I recently presented our daughter in marriage and my son is the father of two delightful grandchildren.

Send me a postcard,

drop me a line,

stating your point of view.

Indicate precisely what you mean to say.

Yours sincerely...wasting away."

In the happy and contented company of my beautiful and devoted wife of twenty-nine years, the lyrics of the song have become more than just a merry little song to whistle in accompaniment. They have become my song. So, for all those who I have been most fortunate in making your acquaintance, who are my dearest friends, and who took a moment to wish me a Happy Birthday on this particularly special birthday, I say...

"Give me your answer,

Fill in the form...

'Mine forever more.'

Will you still need me?

Will you still feed me,'When I'm sixty-four?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!