I’ve always loved that old Beatles tune.

When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a Valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine

If I’d been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four

You’ll be older too
And if you say the word
I could stay with you

I could be handy, mending a fuse
When your lights have gone
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride
Doing the garden, digging the weeds
Who could ask for more

Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four

Every summer we can rent a cottage
In the Isle of Wight, if it’s not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera, Chuck and Dave

Send me a postcard, drop me a line

stating point of view. Indicate precisely what you mean to say

You’re sincerely wasting away. Give me your answer. Fill in a form.

Mine forever more.

Will you still need me? Will you still feed me when I’m sixty four?

________________________

Well.. I AM sixty four and if it was me singing this to my UH I would say it is actually mostly true. He needs me, even if he fails to act as though he does. He’s spent his retirement. He has no roof over head sans mine. He has relied on me forever to run a tight ship that still manages to be warm and cozy. So yeah–I’d say that qualifies as ‘need’.

If it was him singing it to me…ha! Well…to be fair, perhaps he can be handy on occasion, though mending a fuse would be beyond his electrical capabilities or safety. Can you spell e-l-e-c-t-r-o-c-u-t-i-o-n? YEs–I do the garden and dig the weeds as I always have. Sunday drive to church–yes. Valentine cards have pre-d-day been in my purview to send as were birthday greetings to him and everyone else (he seldom remembers or is so inclined to do birthday cards) Post d-day–no Valentines. That was a lie and now a sadness trigger.

As for ‘out until quarter to three’?? Never. Not even when we were twenty four. Not night owls. Now nine p.m. is the new midnight. Zzzzzzzzzz…..

I’ve never knit, let alone a sweater–crewel sewing of intricate design, cross stitch, painting, photography, fair writer, but knitting—no. As for by the fireside–that would be out back at the round fire pit on the patio. Never do light the one in the house as it is in the front room–a lonely place seldom used, now his bedroom.

Losing his hair?? Yes, though the beard is thick and Santa white. Rather dashing actually offset by his olive complexion.

As for renting a cottage? Now doesn’t that sound romantic? He hasn’t a romantic bone in his body. If any renting or summer cottages were to be had, it would have to be me doing the scrimping and saving so it wouldn’t be ‘too dear’. He’s spent all the extra in secret, so scrimping and saving are not going out of style any time soon for me. Only when he did the finances (scrimping and saving=nonexistent)

Grandchildren on your knee? We have one. She lives 2500 miles away so not much bouncing on my knee. Once or twice a year. She is absolutely lovely and the apple of my eye–his too.

Feed me? Yes. No trouble rustling up some grub for either of us. HE’s taken to more assembling of meals though I still prepare most things more intricate than burgers or tacos.

“You’ll be older too”…that has taken on a whole new meaning with the trauma of betrayal. Really wears a person to a frazzle. Aged twenty years in the last three. Definitely NOT suggested as the fountain of youth.

That postcard, that line dropped happened August 26, 1978 in the chapel at our alma mater, where we swore to always have each other’s back. Been somewhat true with the exception of the forsaking all others. Thus his earned moniker as unfaithful husband. Honor? Cherish? Infidelity and those concepts are pretty incompatible. Hmmm…

“Mine forevermore” was true the first eleven years before he took a mistress. Not exactly forevermore. Actually quite a bit short of anticipated forevermore.

This when I’m sixty four thing is pretty old, raggedy and tarnished. Been beaten, bruised, bloodied and torn asunder too.

I still love the song though.