Though incapable of remembering anyone else’s death date, I do my father’s. He’s been gone a year today.

There’s not been one day since that my thoughts haven’t turned to him. In pain, fear, joy… just wanting to share or get his opinion. This is remarkable since we only had three years together and only met once in person. And I didn’t even take his picture! (which still surprises and amuses)

But he’s my Dad and I love him dearly.

I miss you very much, Dad.

I’m one of the hapless who have manged to reach the age of 65 without a smidgen of wisdom.

Oh, I know stuff. Mostly useless. I know that if you have an infection, soak the offending digit/limb in salt water. Well, it has worked for me.

I still remember how to do things from long ago, like tack a horse up. Conversely, I took three years of German in high school yet can’t recall how to count to 10 in the language. Use it or lose it!

Here’s a bit of knowledge learned in the past year for those turning 64:

Move. Change your phone number. Get a guard dog. Perhaps some razor wire.

Little did I know that upon reaching 64 things would become so bizarre. I’m a hermit by nature so when people started knocking on my front door all my feral instincts had me hiding behind the blinds. Of course, that does little to deter salesmen, so my jaunts out to the mailbox became littered with landmines. It comes as a jolt when someone springs from a nearby car and yells “Pam! Can I talk to you about Medicare Part B?”

My phone rang almost every day of the year with sales calls and the mail was full of color flyers. Each salesperson had the best plan and I just had to hear it right then!!

Oh, I told each one that I didn’t need them, that I had everything was in order. Didn’t deter them a bit!

Happy Birthday to me!! Thank goodness I’m finally 65. And I never thought I’d say that…