Happy Birthday Paul
Happy 65th birthday, Paul McCartney. Or should I say, Sir Paul McCartney.
That doesn't seem entirely possible.
But then again, when I went to see dad yesterday for Father's Day he looked at me and said, "You're sixty. That doesn't seem possible". No, dad - I said - it doesn't seem possible to me, either.
I expected that when I got older I'd feel - older. But I don't. Now, when I see a creaky little old lady with a cane and wispy white hair creeping along the sidewalk I sidelong glance at her and wonder if SHE feels as old as she is, inside.
Dad and I had a good visit. He's undergoing radiation treatment for a growth they removed from his left temple a few weeks ago. It's cancerous but not the bad kind that will kill him as long as it's treated. Still, it's another in the growing list of things he has to endure...the Parkinson's Disease, the neck arthritis, the chronic constipation problems the pain meds cause, and all the symptoms of the Parkinson's that are ticking toward the time that his muscles will lose the ability to allow him to swallow correctly. He remains blissfully ignorant of that possibility and I have no desire to bring it up.
I finally threw aside my long-term hatred of cell phones and took the plunge. I've needed a mobile phone too many times lately - trying to locate Cheryl at the mall when we missed our connections, being at the hospital with dad and needing to contact his shuttle driver, and so on. So now Cheryl and I each have a BlackBerry. Ok, I have to admit I'm falling in love with mine. Total corruption. They allow me to check my Yahoo email from work and a myriad of other functions that are designed to make you like them. Cheryl looked at me last night and said, "Ok - so now we have laptops and cell phones. We're totally plugged in, baby".
I guess we are. Life goes on.
Happy Birthday, Paul.
That doesn't seem entirely possible.
But then again, when I went to see dad yesterday for Father's Day he looked at me and said, "You're sixty. That doesn't seem possible". No, dad - I said - it doesn't seem possible to me, either.
I expected that when I got older I'd feel - older. But I don't. Now, when I see a creaky little old lady with a cane and wispy white hair creeping along the sidewalk I sidelong glance at her and wonder if SHE feels as old as she is, inside.
Dad and I had a good visit. He's undergoing radiation treatment for a growth they removed from his left temple a few weeks ago. It's cancerous but not the bad kind that will kill him as long as it's treated. Still, it's another in the growing list of things he has to endure...the Parkinson's Disease, the neck arthritis, the chronic constipation problems the pain meds cause, and all the symptoms of the Parkinson's that are ticking toward the time that his muscles will lose the ability to allow him to swallow correctly. He remains blissfully ignorant of that possibility and I have no desire to bring it up.
I finally threw aside my long-term hatred of cell phones and took the plunge. I've needed a mobile phone too many times lately - trying to locate Cheryl at the mall when we missed our connections, being at the hospital with dad and needing to contact his shuttle driver, and so on. So now Cheryl and I each have a BlackBerry. Ok, I have to admit I'm falling in love with mine. Total corruption. They allow me to check my Yahoo email from work and a myriad of other functions that are designed to make you like them. Cheryl looked at me last night and said, "Ok - so now we have laptops and cell phones. We're totally plugged in, baby".
I guess we are. Life goes on.
Happy Birthday, Paul.