Dr. Seuss, Desi Arnaz, Laraine Newman, Jon Bon Jovi, Mikhail Gorbachev, Sholom Aleichem, Daniel Craig, Pope Pius XII and I have something in common. We were all born on March Second — not all on the same March Second but on various March Seconds. I was actually due on February 29th — it was a leap year — and if I’d made my debut in the world when I was supposed to, I would technically have no birthday this year or next.
The next February 29th, assuming there’s still an Earth then, is scheduled for 2028 and on that date, I would be having my nineteenth birthday. As things turned out, I wasn’t born on 2/29/52 or even on 3/1/52 so on 3/2/52, some medical SWAT team went in and got me. Nevertheless, I still feel like I’m nineteen except that no one has informed my knees.
Here is proof of my birth which, as you can see, was sponsored by the Pet Milk Company…
Seventy-four is not a big deal. Years ago, I thought that anything sixty or over would be but when those numbers came around, I didn’t feel any different with the exception of those uninformed knees of mine. I’m spending more time than I like around doctors but mine seem to be able to fix whatever’s wrong at the moment so the visits are all worth my time and trouble.
I have a number of friends who, in my opinion, make way too much out of how old they are…like they expect that as they rack up certain numbers of years, certain bad things will inevitably happen to them. Some of them sound almost disappointed when those bad things don’t happen as per schedule. I especially dislike when someone who’s, say, eighty says, “My father died when he was 83 so I guess I only have three years left.” My father did not die at the same age as his father and my mother did not die at the same age as her mother and neither did his parents. Doesn’t that prove something?
Also, I had one friend whose father died at the age of 72 and he was sure that would be his expiration date too, even though his father died in a plane crash. I don’t get how it could possibly work like that. Looking at the stats on Average Life Expectancy doesn’t predict anything either, especially if, like me, you aren’t living an Average Life.
What has worked for me so far is just kind of ignoring the dates…taking care of myself based on how I feel instead of anyone’s notion of how I should feel. There’s a story that I hope is not apocryphal that when Jack Benny was screen-testing for the movie The Sunshine Boys, the director told him he was walking too energetically. The director said, “Remember, Jack…you’re playing a seventy-five-year-old comedian!”
To which Mr. Benny replied, “But I’m an eighty-year-old comedian!” I always liked that story. Here is silent footage of that screen test and the opening slate shows it was shot on September 18, 1974…
Jack Benny was born February 14, 1894 so the day the above was filmed, he was eighty years, seven months and four days old. As things turned out (sadly), he passed away ninety-days later — before he could film his part in that movie. He was replaced by his longtime friend George Burns, who was a little less than two years younger than Benny and who went on making movies for another thirteen years and living for another twenty-five or so.
So you never know how much longer you have on this planet and if there was a way you could find out for sure, I wouldn’t want to. I’m just going to go on living like I’m as young as most of me feels. I just wish I could persuade my knees to get with the plan.
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