It's about time.

OK, so now we're goin' down Route 66. Today's birthday boy is your obedient scribe.

What's it like being 66? Well, for one thing, it's like being twice as old as you were at 33, and three times as old as you were at 22, and six times as old as you were at 11.

Before we try to figure out what it feels like to be sixty-six times as old as you were at age one, let's just stop and think for a moment. Do you remember what it was like to be one year old? If you do you must be a phenomenon.

Actually, it's not too bad. Speaking for myself, I'm more settled now than I was at any of those other milestones. Different things annoy me now from those that annoyed me then. When I was six, I wasn't particularly easily annoyed by children. Well, mostly I was afraid of them. But at 66, interacting with kids has become one of my least sought after activities. I think this is partly the result of attenuation of hearing. As I lose the range of upper frequency response, I am less able to make out what kids are trying to say, particularly at the early stages of child development. And what I can understand, in most cases, is not something that offers much in the way of subject interest. Perhaps as I grow older, they will too, and some moments of effective communication are to be anticipated whenever that may happen. But it is likely to be a brief window indeed, given that I'll be nearly 80 when the granddaughter is a mere 16-year old, assuming we both survive.

What, then, you ask, are the joys of being on Route 66?
They are, at a minimum, three in number.

1) To have survived for another year is a fine thing. Much preferable to the alternative.
2) Some people seem to take note of my age and appearance and show a certain, perhaps undeserved, deference. I no longer have to do all the dishes and all the cleaning. Which is a good thing because
3) Time has become a valued commodity. It's amazing how much there is to do each day, and how little of it actually gets accomplished. When I was twice as young as I now am, I could remember to do things very easily. It didn't mean that I did them, but at least I was aware that I needed to do them. Now, my best friend is a to-do list at Google Calendar.

And so, as life progresses toward unavoidable eventuality, knowing that it's highly unlikely that we'll someday be twice as old as we are today, let alone three times as old, we take the time to reflect on our turning off the freeway to follow Route 66 for a year. May this be the road less traveled by, making all the difference.