Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Gone but not forgotten

Yesterday (January 8th) was the birthday of Elvis Presley and today (January 9th -- it is still January 9th where I am) is the birthday of Richard Milhous Nixon.

Happy birthday to them both.

Posthumously, of course.

The former (if he had lived) would have been 78 and the latter (ditto) would have been 90.

I myself am a mere 71 and 3/4.

How time flies when you’re having fun.



6 comments:

Grumpy Old Ken said...

Loved your photos, sad though they are.
re the definition on my post (Not mine, I agree, that's experts for you! Thanks for visiting.

rhymeswithplague said...

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been treated to a comment by someone with 1122 followers! Thanks, Grumpy Old Ken, hands across the sea, and so forth!

Carolina said...

For some people life is too short, for others far too long.
I have an aunt who is now 105, but a couple of weeks after her 104th birthday she said: 'I'm going to bed and will not get out of it until the Lord comes to get me. I've had enough.'
Apparently the Lord doesn't want her. She still is in her bed.
A very sad story.

rhymeswithplague said...

Carolina, I knew a man from Rome, Georgia (yes, Virginia, there is a Rome, Georgia) who bought a brand new car when he was 95 and drove Interstate 75 to Atlanta and back for years. The last time I saw him he was still driving at 101. He lived to be 104 or 105 and I'm sure he didn't spend those years refusing to get out of bed.

Dr. Leila Denmark, a fixture around these parts, passed away recently at 113. She had been a practicing obstetrician until she was 103. Just this past month or so another woman in central Georgia died at 116.

There must be something in the water around here.

Yorkshire Pudding said...

One day in the far off future you will have a grave. What will your headstonebe like? I suggest two little marble cherubs round a marble heart with a quotation from Willie Nelson. You must tell Lady Ellie what you desire.

rhymeswithplague said...

Yorkie Poo, I hadn't thought about it, really. Maybe something like this:

Here lie the remains of Robert Brague
Whose nom de plume was rhymeswithplague;
His soul, which now has soaring room,
No longer needs a nom de plume.