This Sunday Paul McCartney turns 64. He was a teenager when he wrote When I’m Sixty-Four — though it didn’t show up until Sgt. Pepper in 1967. I have to admit when I first read about it, I thought, “He’s only 64?” So much has happened since then: the assasinations, the war(s), Watergate, Reagan, end of the Cold War, 9/11, the internet — computers for God’s sake, that the Beatles seems like another planet. Another century to be sure. They were [bigger than Jesus] you know. Now Jesus sets foreign policy. Jesus sure showed that John Lennon.
They never could have seen the world coming. Youth never does and so much of the 60’s convulsion was demographic — a bubble of kids swept through the culture and shook everything to its core. Then they got older, less resilient, more conservative and dutifully began putting it all back together. But I wonder how they look back on their idealism. Do they look back? Or is it too painful.
Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating point of view
Indicate precisely what you mean to say
Yours sincerely, wasting away
Give me your answer, fill in a form
Mine for evermore
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I’m sixty-four