Today Tom Waits and I complete 76 years on this Earth. I've written a song for the occasion – it goes to the tune of 'Seventy-Six Trombones' –
Seventy-six years old, and I'm feeling fine,
Seventy-six years old, and I'm glad –
And when I've lived eight more, I'll be all of eighty-four,
And the prospect doesn't seem half bad.
etc.
All yours, Tom.
Others, especially those afflicted with a tender conscience, have taken their birthdays rather more seriously. Take the seventeenth-century nonconformist cleric Philip Henry (whose father had the delightful job title Keeper of the Orchard at Whitehall Palace)...
'He was born at White-hall, in Westminster, on Wednesday, August 24, 1631. being Bartholomew-day. I find usually in his Diary, some pious Remark or other upon the Annual Return of his Birth-day: As in one Year he notes, that the Scripture mentions but two who observed their Birth-day with Feasting and Joy, and they were neither of them Copies to be written after: viz. πβππππβ, Gen. 40.20. and π»ππππ, Mat. 14.6. π΅π’π‘ (saith he) πΌ πππ‘βππ πππ πππ£π ππ‘ ππ π π·ππ¦ ππ πππ’πππππ πππ π»π’ππππππ‘πππ, πππππ’π π π βππππ ππ πΌππππ’ππ‘π¦, πππ πππππππ£ππ ππ πππ. And when he had completed the Thirtieth Year of his Age, he noted this, ππ πππ, πππ ππ πππππ, Alexander π€ππ , π€βππ βπ βππ πππππ’ππππ π‘βπ πππππ‘ πππππ, ππ’π‘ (saith he) πΌ βππ£π πππ‘ π¦ππ‘ π π’πππ’ππ π‘βπ πππ‘π‘ππ πππππ, ππ¦ π πππ. At his Thirty third Year he hath this Humble Reflection; π΄ ππππ π‘πππ πππ£ππ π‘π π ππππ ππ’ππππ π, πβππ‘ π βπππ πΌ ππ π‘π ππππππ ππ‘? And at another, πΌ πππ¦ πππ’ππ ππ πΆπππ ππ πππ π€βππ βπ πππππππ‘ππ π’πππ π΄πππ₯πππππ'π πππππ¦ π΄πβπππ£πππππ‘π , π‘βππ‘ ππ‘βπππ , π¦ππ’ππππ π‘βππ πΌ ππ, βππ£π ππππ ππ’πβ ππππ π‘βππ πΌ βππ£π ππππ πππ πΊππ, π‘βπ πΊππ ππ ππ¦ πΏπππ. And (to mention no more) when he had lived Forty two Years, he thus writes; πΌ π€ππ’ππ ππ ππππ‘β π‘π πππ£π ππ‘ ππ£ππ πππππ, πππ π‘ πππ π‘πππ ππ ππππππ ππ‘ πππ‘π‘ππ πΌ π βππ’ππ ππππ ππ‘ π€πππ π, πππ πππ ππππ , ππ£πππ¦ ππππ πππ π·ππ¦ π ππππ‘ ππ πΈπππ‘β ππ πππ π ππ π»πππ£ππ. This last Note minds me of a Passage I have heard him tell of a Friend of his, who being grown into Years, was asked how old he was, and answer'd, ππ π‘βπ π€ππππ π πππ ππ πΉπππ‘π¦: Which (said Mr. Henry) he should not have said; for if he was going to Heaven, it was the πππβπ‘ side of Fifty.'
— πππππ‘ππ° πππ§π«π², π΄π π΄ππππ’ππ‘ ππ π‘βπ πΏπππ πππ π·πππ‘β ππ ππ. πβππππ π»ππππ¦, πππππ π‘ππ ππ π‘βπ πΊππ πππ ππππ πβππ‘ππβπ’ππβ ππ πβππππ βπππ, πβπ π·π¦'π π½π’ππ 24, 1696, ππ π‘βπ πππ₯π‘π¦ πΉπππ‘β ππππ ππ π»ππ π΄ππ (1698).
Well, there'll be none of that chez Nige...
— πππππ‘ππ° πππ§π«π², π΄π π΄ππππ’ππ‘ ππ π‘βπ πΏπππ πππ π·πππ‘β ππ ππ. πβππππ π»ππππ¦, πππππ π‘ππ ππ π‘βπ πΊππ πππ ππππ πβππ‘ππβπ’ππβ ππ πβππππ βπππ, πβπ π·π¦'π π½π’ππ 24, 1696, ππ π‘βπ πππ₯π‘π¦ πΉπππ‘β ππππ ππ π»ππ π΄ππ (1698).
Well, there'll be none of that chez Nige...
Very thought-provoking. But I find no conflict between "This is the day that the Lord has made, Let us rejoice and be glad in it." (even the day of my birthday) and "Teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." And then, "In everything give thanks." Philip seems to have been an Eeyore type of personality.
ReplyDeleteI agree, Joanna – I find no conflict either. I think there's a sense in which the more you enjoy and are thankful for life, the less you fear death. The inverse of that is Bob Dylan's 'poor immigrant, who passionately hates his life, and likewise fears his death'.
DeleteIn the spoken introduction to one of his songs, Tom Lehrer said, "When Mozart was my age, he had been dead for ten years." Lehrer then lived another sixty or so, dying this summer.
ReplyDeleteYes, he made it to 97, didn't he? An amazing life, and an amazing talent.
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