I was watching a performance that I accidentally discovered on America’s Got Talent as I was changing channels. A twenty-something girl who was horribly burned in an airplane crash was singing a song she may have written herself, or it could be a well-known popular song that was not known well to me. Whatever—she got a standing ovation that seemed to be more for surviving the crash than her musical ability, but I am not the one to judge anything musical.
Her song was the typical young-person’s song of searching for love, for a life-mate, for herself (all the same search) which I agree is the most important task at that age. But I was stopped short with the line that went something like:
I will love you ‘till we are 70.
Seventy? I thought. That’s all? Your relationship is just starting to gel at 70, Girlie. But I guess that’s the oldest she could imagine ever becoming, I kid you not.