"A man is as old as he's feeling." (Collins)

.....The Baron went to a neighbor's 90th birthday party last night. He lives next door to me and he has been single since I first met him in 1983 when we both bought at Huntington Lakes. However, before he became single he was married three times; but I don't believe any of his exes attended the celebration. At any rate, Freddy paid for the whole affair all by himself. Since he always gets "compted" at any casino he attends in Mississippi, it was only right this time that he compted us. There were about 60 or 70 people there--friends, neighbors, cousins, and even a few from Germany where he worked following WWII, and learned to speak German fluently. 

.....The party was a real gala with an open bar all night, and a "disk jockey" who played music throughout the festivities, and who sang songs with real words that could be understood by all who speak English. I quick-started the evening with a Bloody Mary; I had originally asked for a Pina Colada, but was told this was not a cruise ship in the Caribbean. I was happy to hear that, because I broke both hips on cruises to the Caribbean, and had none left to spare. Besides, RH+ would not allow me any further cruising. 

.....The first serving at the meal was a spinach salad that I passed on. I'm Baron, not Popeye. The main dish was a filet mignon accompanied by mashed potatoes and asparagus, all of which I could tolerate. When I heard disco music, especially "YMCA" I insisted on a dance with RH+. Surprisingly, she allowed me to dance with her, in spite of my doing it with a cane, which is somewhat of a bother while dancing. I discovered that I could no longer do the kind of exciting dancing that I used to do before 1999 when we were both Astaire and Ginger. Besides, I was embarrassed by a two-year old who out-danced me, not with a cane but with a diaper. When I was 15-17, I won prizes in Madison Square Garden, jitterbugging to the music of Glen Miller, Artie Shaw, and Benny Goodman. No more. Pity.

.....After the dance, I eagerly awaited the dessert that turned out to be chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream which I washed down with a cup of tea and a diet coke. Now came the encomiums for Freddy when a neighbor, a cousin, a young lady friend, and a guy from Germany took charge of the mike and lauded the host who is a pretty spry guy for 90. The gals at my table insisted that I go up there and also say something nice, and that I should sing a song--"Rich Man" from "Fiddler"--which I do so often it has morphed into my iconic number. I don't use that word very often, so I looked it up and one definition had it  to mean,"A representation or picture of a sacred or sanctified Christian personage, traditionally used and venerated in the Eastern Church." 

.....Well, I guess I won't do that song again.