This particular milestone

I've been reflecting on all the milestone birthdays in my life.

The first big one, I think, was 16. That's when I got my driver's license and I thought I had become an adult. It was sweet.

Then there was 18, when I had to register for the draft during the Vietnam War era.

And 21, when I could both legally drink alcohol and vote. Sometimes I would have a drink before I voted. And then follow that with a chaser after I voted. Brrrrr.

Then came 30, when I could no longer be trusted.

After that came 50, just because it marked half a century on the planet. Retirement came at 55. And there was 65, when Medicare kicked in.

I never minded any of the milestones. They were basically all just numbers. Sometimes people would take me out to eat, and I would let them. The best part about having birthdays was that I usually got cake. So, yes, I am that shallow.

But today might be different. Today I turn 70.

Seventy is a big number, as aging goes. On the one hand, it lets people know that I'm entering my eighth decade and, in theory, I should have tons of experience and wisdom to impart on those who might care. On the other hand, I really, really feel like taking a nap.

It even sounds old. 70. An Aquarian septuagenarian. Holy smokes.

There's an actuarial aspect to this, too. The life expectancy table after reaching age 70 feature numbers that tend to drop precipitously. Depending on whose table you are looking, the life expectancy for a white male in the United States is 76.8 years, which means I have 6.8 years left to check off my bucket list items.

Fortunately, my bucket isn't very demanding. I think all I really want to see anymore are certain countries in Europe. I want to stand in a pot bunker at St. Andrews in Scotland. I would like to see the beaches of Normandy in France. I would love to visit the Black Forest in Germany, from where the Wehrles germinated (you can only germinate in Germany, you know). We'll see.

I know we should be living our lives to the fullest, but it's not all that easy in the middle of a pandemic.

And, of course, there are random events you don't see coming. I could be bopped on the head by a stray asteroid at any moment, rendering actuarial tables moot. Or the family gene pool might kick in, giving me 20 more years. My Aunt Bea (for real) made it to 102. So you roll the dice and play the odds, I guess.

And maybe stop looking at the actuarial tables.

Unless there's cake on them.