Yup. Hit the big six-oh today. I am as old as the transistor, the independent state of India, the Taft-Hartley Act, the Spruce Goose, and integration in major-league baseball. Thing is, I don’t feel that old. My physical disabilities are more due to genetic defects, old injuries and chronic illness than age –okay, except for the cataracts–not many teenagers running around with opaque corneas.
But jeez–sixty. That does sound bloody antique, so I tried to think of an accurate way to minimize it. Sixty = two to the sixth power, minus four. Nah, that sounds even worse. How about “three score”? That has a nice Lincolnesque ring to it, but it brings to mind “three score and ten,” the Biblical lifespan. I have lots more than one lousy decade left, I’m sure.
Then I remembered what George Carlin said–so now I’m not sixty at all–only “16 Celsius.”
Happy birthday, sweet sixteen!
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