Whether you are reading this on Thursday, May 4, in the newspaper or viewing it online, you may not be aware that tomorrow — Friday — is a momentous day in the life of this struggling young columnist.
That’s the day when I should have 95 candles on the top of my birthday cake, if there is enough room to accommodate them. Yep, this old fart was born on May 5, in the year of 1928 — just about one year short of the start of another national tragedy, the Great Depression.
Reaching 95 years has long been considered the goal of many, but it’s amazing how many people seem to be reaching — and passing — that milestone these days. I think that medical advances have done more to achieve this than clean living has, but that’s just an old man’s observation and experiences.
I can’t say that I’m eagerly awaiting the remaining few years of my existence because illness and suffering seem to be one of the requisite experiences that come with its arrival, but — to quote an old gag — maybe I can be shot by a jealous husband because I didn’t wag my cane with enough of an authoritative manner.
I can’t help but recall the lyrics of a song from the musical “Porgy and Bess” where Ira Gershwin wrote the lyrics of “It Ain’t Necessarily So” for his brother George’s perspective on Methuselah’s life span.
Go ahead, look it up online.
On the other hand, there are compensations such as bringing to life a daughter, Lisa, followed by a son, Matthew, into this world. Both have added greatly to the preservation of these old bones of mine — not to mention my spirit. There were also — I’m forced to admit — three wives along the paths of those years, remembered with varying degrees of pleasure, hilarity and sadness. Enough said on that topic.
There were many happy moments over the last 70 or so years here in Lewis County as well, one of which was spending a dozen or so years as a disk jockey on KELA’s Record Roundtable. Remember those days?
Another was that, after a lifetime of dreaming about flying a plane, it was discovered that my partial deafness did not prohibit me from receiving a pilot’s license. It only prohibited military flying. I was just a week or so shy of my 70th birthday when I received that signed piece of paper that permitted my aerobatic activity, until another medical problem canceled it a few years later.
And the youthful desire of becoming a famous actor was only partially achieved — and that unfortunately not with a presentation of the words of Mark Twain with an audience.
That ended with the final performance 14 years ago, which resulted in — I’ve been told — over $7,000 toward the building of the proposed (and now beautifully completed) Vernetta Smith Timberland Chehalis Library.
There were also the over 970 marriage ceremonies I conducted over the years as an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church. My greatest pleasure there came when I performed a ceremony when the bride was the daughter of a couple for whom I had originally conducted their marriage ceremony.
There were also some hilarious moments to remember as well.
Then, I can’t omit from the “plus” side of my life the four years I spent as the mayor of Centralia under the commission form of city government and the 12 additional years I served on the later city council form.
You know, now looking back through the preceding paragraphs, I can’t help but consider that, after all, life has been pretty good to this old nonagenarian.
So I guess I’m not complaining — just bragging.
Now, let’s see what 2024 will bring? Elections, wars, climate catastrophes? Maybe I’ll just go out into the flower garden and pull a few weeds along with my favorite companion of the last four years, my black cat, Sam.
But then, as I’ve mentioned in a few of my previous columns, even he gets on my nerves at times.
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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.
