We have a birthday to celebrate tonight, in honor of my wife’s daughter. We have a reservation at Roe, and plan to let Uber do the driving in case we overdo it. Birthday Bear will be there (See Post #58), as my writing now starts to go full-circle in this the second year of retirement. We have not made plans for my birthday yet, but I do have a reservation for my wife’s upcoming 62nd, as she gets another year closer to joining me on the retirement beach. I will have one last stop on Route 66, when we travel through Illinois in a few months, before I turn 67. There is no Route 67, in fact it’s the highest two-digit odd number not presently designating any U.S. Highway. There is a European route E67 from Prague to Helsinki, but my plans for next year do not yet include driving in that area. I have yet to come up with a theme for that quickly approaching year.

My theme for Sixty-three was “just turned 21 for the third time,” while “When I’m Sixty-four,” was courtesy of The Beatles, and Sixty-Five was the official retirement year. Sixtyseven is a line of women’s shoes. It’s also an odd number and a lucky prime, while “star 67” deactivates caller ID. Elton John’s song “Old 67” has some promise:

Old ’67 what a time it was,

What a time of innocence, what a time we’ve lost.

Raise a glass and have a laugh, have a laugh or two,

Here’s to old ’67 and an older me and you…

In 1967, I turned sweet 16, got my driver’s licence, and had just entered high school. That was over 50 years ago, and a memorable time of my life. I had yet to date a girl and was still a virgin, didn’t shave yet, and weighed about 125 pounds soaking wet. All of that youthful innocence didn’t last much longer, as I began to sprout like a bean stalk. I still have four months to think about how I’ll celebrate my 67th year. Tonight, however we’ll toast to 37 years and Birthday Bear’s 36th.