When He's Sixty-Four

Well, it's here (or will be on Sunday). The big one--the one we've all been waiting for... Paul McCartney's 64th birthday. Right about now, "Macca" as he is fondly known in the British tabloids, is probably wishing he'd never written that song in the first place. As some have pointed out, 64 ain't what it used to be. Who would have thought that instead of digging weeds outside a little cottage in the Isle of Wight, he'd be fighting off impertinent questions about whether his soon-to-be-ex-wife used to be a high-dollar whore, or that instead of balancing little grandchildren (Vera, Chuck, Dave) upon his knee, he'd be chucking another toddler daughter of his own under the chin? And Lord knows it's been quite some time since he's had to scrimp or save anything. On the whole, I guess Paul has had it pretty good--a loving family, apparent good health, and, well, to say he's had a successful career is putting it pretty mildly! He's lived an awful lot in his not-particularly-long 64 years. There have certainly been some ups and downs, but I'm sure he'll bounce right back. Happy Birthday, Sir Paul, and here's to a happier 65th year.