The duo of Lennon and McCartney composed some of the best lyrics of all time.

How so much could be captured in such a few short (very hum-able) syllables is amazing.

Not only poetic and relatable in describing human emotions, they forwarded many simple truths about life.

“Love is all there is,”  “Life goes on (ob-la-di, ob-la-da),” and “You say you want a revolution. We all want to change the world,”  these come quickly to mind.

But as I celebrated my 64th birthday just a few days after Thanksgiving, I felt like shouting, “Aha, Beatles, you were wrong.”

Of course,  I am referring to their classic, “When I’m Sixty Four.”

In a noble, romantic fashion, the words pay homage to love that endures. Like glasses raised in a toast, the lyrics seem to celebrate a type of belonging that can weather the physical changes age brings on and common antics performed to stave off feeling old. (“If I’d been out till quarter to three, would you lock the door?”)

The underlying message might be innocent enough, that aging is made easier when you have a partner going through the same process with you. Often, there are grandchildren and shared hobbies and trust. The feeling that your partner will be present for you in all situations is framed as a reward for longevity.

That’s all fine, but it’s the message that “sixty-four” is old that I don’t like.

I’ve heard the quips about “sixty” being the “new fifty,” but …

I feel like this song’s words suggest that the goal of getting older is simply to enjoy the security you’ve built, to enjoy some types of experiences you scrimped and saved for, or learn how to find pleasure in watching future generations get ready to take the proverbial “wheel” and steer civilization safely forward. (Okay, maybe they’ll ask Siri.)

A friend of mine, whose strong-willed Italian “nonna” lived in her house while she was growing up, used to invoke an aphorism. Like most sayings, it sounds better in Italian, “Invecicchiare é brutto.”  Getting old is ugly.

My experience has been the opposite.

Yes, I have less hair where I’d like it to be and find growth in unwelcome places, like my chin, but, for the most part, as I’ve gotten older I’ve been more truthful about my own feelings and more willing to express myself out loud.

Maybe I’m thicker around the waist and when I watch TV commercials for antiaging skin creams, I actually wonder whether hyaluronic acid delivers on its claims. Maybe I’m not as attractive as when I was thirty-two, but LIFE IS MORE BEAUTIFUL.

When making a decision, I take into consideration what might best serve all concerned, but my main focus is how to make myself happy. Until the past few years, I’ve put so much energy into trying to please others. That’s usually a recipe for unhappiness but it seemed a reasonable enough strategy for a long time.

I thought the approval of my family or school mates or work associates would make my path easier. It didn’t. It doesn’t work to expect that the approval of someone else will lift you up or bring you peace.

As I celebrated another year on earth, I felt compelled to look at lyrics to other Beatle songs. I lingered over the words to “Hello, Goodbye.” In ‘I don’t know why you say “Goodbye.” I say, “Hello,”’ I thought about hearing words that mean the opposite of what you are saying echo back to you.

These days, my ability to pursue positives, to follow any impulse to say “hello” to something despite anyone else’s advice to be “realistic” is cherished. I try to live with hope and gratitude. I value my own truth.

Saying “no,” when I mean “no” is no small thing.