Ulta Pulta or Any Way Up

Tomorrow I turn 69.  Turn 69 .. that's like getting into a new position, turning over a new leaf, or turned on its head.  No change!  But birthdays are meant for musing, reminiscing and otherwise boring people who deign to read on. Small consolation that John Lennon would have turned 83 too.  Not to mention it's World Postal Day - to remind us that Dead Letters still exist and haven't been stamped out yet. Bad pun, but that's my problem - for all of 69 years.

When I turned sixty, I decided it was the Swinging Sixties.  Easy to calculate. It comes after the Roaring Forties and the Furious Fifties which as Geography students know are merely a lot of wind depending on where you are. But there were milestones throughout the decade, which isn't over yet, but it's worth celebrating anyway.

A couple of years before the 60 year mark I decided that I would not retire.  People I worked with and for were unhappy that I quit, but I just didn't want that handshake, watch and suitcase (where do they expect you to go?). Not to mention the speeches peppered with a plethora of adjectives from various dictionaries about how amazing I used to be (but they hid it from me till the end). I cruised past my 60th birthday, there was a party too! I was officially an "old guy" or "senior citizen", could probably get discounts on trains and airfares. Okay, now I get the suitcase angle.

And then I started thinking about the next milestone.

"When I'm 64" was The Beatles' idea of old age expressed in song.  They asked the 64-million-dollar question, "Will you still feed me ... ?"  Nope, I'm not going there.  I can still feed myself at 64. Not only that, I could feed my family with their eclectic tastes.  I was well into consulting, largely with a software company. 64 has great connotations for software dudes - it's the sixth power of two for whatever that information is worth. It thrills me to bits to say this!

And two years later, Covid struck and we were housebound.  That year I celebrated by 66th birthday with an online party which I named Route 66.  It listed a selection of the music I had played  in my music days.  You can read that story here. And tomorrow Jackson Browne, the pianist whose cover I played on stage with High, turns 75 - Happy Platinum, Jackson.

I also recall that the game Bingo! refers to 66 as "all the sixes clickety click".  There's no connection here, except that at the time we all were yelling "House" at the same time! It was the lockdown of which you can read elsewhere in this blog. 

The following year, I was at sixes and sevens, and not only because I was turning 67. Business had become tougher, consulting contracts fewer and the world was crawling back very slowly. But we survived to the ripe old age I now am - 5 years after the Beatles declared me old, but still mending a fuse from time to time.

Tomorrow, as I said, is a new position, the last year of being a sexagenarian (or sexy for short), any way up, ulta pulta.  These are just some of the phrases attached to this magical number. Years ago, as the song goes, there was the Summer of '69.  Any which way, it's the last of the sixties and I need to make the most of it before I am officially a septuagenarian.

Just musing about the shape of 69 I am reminded of the Zodiac Pisces symbol - two fish in that position. Or the Yin and Yang symbol - you can interpret that any way you like. And I'm told that it is also called the "Angel Number", though I can't figure out that angle either. 

In the Indian context the number has great significance which I shall not get into in a family newspaper.  But it's just one turn away from 96. So let's make the best of the last year of this decade before I turn decadent - you can already see the signs here!