Paul McCartney was sixteen when he wrote “When I’m Sixty-Four.”
He and John Lennon revised and recorded it for Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, released in 1967. Paul and John (as we called them) were twenty-five and twenty-seven, respectively. It’s John who added the line, “Grandchildren on your knee, Vera, Chuck and Dave.”
When my oldest brother brought the album home, my grandmother was sixty-four. She did knit sweaters –for us grandkids, not her husband.
My parents were the grown-ups; they were forty-two.
At the time, my idea of romantic love was based on Sixteen Going on Seventeen, from The Sound of Music. But I quickly replaced having a crush on Liesl, the eldest von Trapp, for having crushes on Paul, John, George and Ringo – separately and all at once.
I liked the song both for its humor and the clarinet lines. I’m sure it influenced me when I was forty-eight and imagined Rose and Percy, the sixty-four-year-old characters of Into the Wilderness. But even then, the idea that I would ever be sixty-four seemed preposterous.
No longer.
Being 64 is not so bad. I was 64 once.
Agreed–64 isn’t bad at all! What’s surprising is when one’s children turn 64 and the little ones in the family speak to “Grandma” and it still shocks me that “Grandma” was once our little girl and I’ve been titled (great) Grammy!
Haha.
As I begrudgingly approach the BIG 60 this July, I constantly have Roger Daltrey and the gang running around my head; reminding me, as a teen, how I once took to heart the cocky refrain, “hope I die before I get old.”
Lol.
Glad, in my advanced years, that this youthful, rebellious proclamation remained merely a catchy tune on the vinyl.
Life goes by in a blink, here I am already.
Happy 64th Deborah.
Happy Birthday Deborah.
I always find it interesting to think about how we perceive ourselves. At almost 47, I’m three years older than my Nana was when she became a grandmother for the first time (to me, I was the first of many). I find it hard to reconcile that Nana in photos with 3-year old me is the same age as I am now. She’s so OLD and I’m still so YOUNG! At least that’s how I see myself, but of course my own children think I’m ancient. I often wonder how my Nana thought of herself as a 20-year old mum, a 44-year old grandma, a 69-year old great-grandma. Indeed, as she regularly fixes her hair, touches up her lipstick, and makes sure she’s wearing her favourite blue clothes, as she sits in her retirement home, I wonder how she perceives her 92-year old self?
xx
Happy Birthday, Deb, you spring chicken, you!
My grandmother, who lived to 104, always quoted “the first hundred years are the hardest.”
She also said her 60s were the best.
I do love this song. When I sing it now, I substitute 84 for 64. As I am almost 67, it puts things in perspective and makes more sense.
Cheer!