Love can never more grow old,
Locks may lose their brown and gold;
Cheeks may fade and hollow grow,
But the hearts that love will know,
Never, never winter’s frost and chill;
Summer warmth is in them still. – Eben E. Rexford
The words above are from an old song that was popular in the late 19th century called Silver Threads Among the Gold. For some reason, I remembered the words to that song and I assure you I was not alive in the late 19th Century (though I’m sure my grandkids think I was). I’m telling you, I am using up valuable brain cells storing this type of useless information.
They don’t write songs like this anymore. Instead, you have classics such as I Can’t Feel My Face. My other thought as I read the lyrics was that you don’t run across many young boys being named Eben these days. Trevor, yes. Eben, no.
Aging is an interesting phenomenon. Someone hit the nail on the head when they said Old age is always 10 years older than I am. I should attribute that quote to someone; however, the internet attributes it to three or four different people. I couldn’t figure it out, so I will simply put it out there. Because, Friends, isn’t it all too true? When you’re 8 years old, don’t you wish you could be grown-up like your 18-year-old sister, who you consider OLD. And it’s certainly true when you are in your 20s, 30s, and even older.
Bill and I began talking about this notion the other day. We figured out that when he and I got married, his mother was about the same age as he is now. A woman of some years. And Bill is, well, positively youthful!
My sister Bec was talking with her son Erik one day not long ago. In the course of their conversation, she mentioned that our mother was so young when she died. Erik asked her how old his nana was when she passed away. Sixty-eight years old, Bec responded. Erik’s reply? “I don’t think that’s that young.” Bec – uncharacteristically almost speechless — said, “You do understand, Son, that I am 65 years old.” Ah. There’s that.
All this is to say that today is Bill’s birthday, and he is 73 years young today. The year Bill was born, the movie Casablanca was released. Gasoline was 15 cents a gallon. A house cost in the neighborhood of $3,700, which was a lot considering the average worker earned a little over $1,800 per year.
Bill has had a lot thrown at him in his life. Do you know how he would respond to that statement? “Who hasn’t?” He handles life with grace and dignity, which helps keep him young. He is one of the funniest people I know, and you know what they say about laughter and medicine. He is living proof. One of the greatest tributes to this astounding man is that my brother says he has fully admired two men in his life – our dad and Bill. I agree.
So, happy birthday to my husband, and I am sure in 15 years when I am writing my – well, whatever will have taken the place of the blog – he will still be young.