I grow old, Part One

The best man at my first marriage, with the lovely Danila, was 65 a couple of days ago.
The date reminded me, as both Linford Christie and Joan Collins correctly said, that “Age is just a number.” 
Miss Collins added “It’s totally irrelevant unless, of course, you happen to be a bottle of wine.”
I read that there are four stages of life:

  1. You believe in Santa Claus;
  2. You don’t believe in Santa Claus;
  3. You are Santa Claus; 
  4. You look like Santa Claus.

Or as George Burns said in jest “First you forget names, then you forget faces. 
Next you forget to pull your zipper up and finally, you forget to pull it down.”
I’m sure that’s the way it goes, eventually. But at 65? Not any more.

T S Eliot famously wrote “I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. Shall I part my hair behind?
But is the fashion look really the important perception?

Do I dare to eat a peach?” 
Do we care so much about other’s perceptions of us, that we wouldn’t eat a peach, for fear that juice would get on our face?
Concerns come to us all eventually, but more importantly a bigger problem is inexperience. 

Published by Rob

Now 70, I'm getting back into website development and brand protection, as well as showcasing the delightful artistic talents of my beautiful wife Lynne. My projection will encompass a lifetime of database marketing, as well as the Christian democratic socialist ideals of my wife and I.

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