Reflections on turning 72

I've spent a lifetime ignoring both my birthday and advancing age, mostly convinced my family to do so as well, so it still comes as a bit of a reality check to find that Facebook has rendered this heretofore effective strategy inoperative.

So here are some reflections on turning 72:
1. The best comment I received all day came from my brother-in-law, Mike Dawes: “Happy birthday, Justus! 72 is a special number, palindromic when written in prime power notation as 2^3 * 3^2 . So for today it doesn't matter if you don't know whether you are coming or going.” He's obviously been thinking about this, as he's working on the same number himself. I always suspected his rather rarified area of study had to have a practical application in it somewhere, and here it is: useful advice, given when it exactly describes the situation.
2. It pretty much had to happen. My paternal relatives seem particularly long-lived as a group, having survived both the war and its aftermath with both luck and connections and living long lives after. By the same token, I can count only three times when I, by the odds, probably should have died. That leaves three more, right? I should probably resolve to be more careful.
Besides, most of the time I still feel only about 50. Maybe even less.
3. I'm now officially off the fingers in counting the number of my contemporaries who either are no longer with us, are exploring the various manifestations of dementia, or have suffered some kind of debilitating condition that makes seeing the positives of life difficult. There doesn't appear to be a straightforward connection between living a recommended lifestyle and longevity: the deserving don't necessarily live longer, or even better.
4. My parents appeared to love being grandparents, yet always seemed grateful when they could resume their lives without us. I now know exactly how they felt. I'm a bit taken aback by how much I love interacting with our children as adults, and love watching grandchildren growing up. I love the life Sandy and I have together even more, even if she isn't likely to ever retire!
5. Still, shit happens. My parents were exemplary in organizing their affairs in case someone else had to take over unexpectedly. That didn't happen in that when my siblings and I took over, very gradually, they were both quite elderly. The result was that when first my Mom died, and then my Dad, the procedures for dealing with those deaths and their affairs was very clear and straightforward. We have followed their example, and our children will, one day long into the future, thank us.
6. When statistics are cited that claim people over 65 cost the health system substantially more, they aren't exaggerating. I find myself in robust health, am able to do almost anything I've always been able to do, but have a persistent cough. The result is that, in chasing down these not-particularly-significant symptoms, I've seen more of my doctor, various specialists, and the Emergency Department than I did in all the years up to age 70 combined.
My dad almost died when he was leading up to 72. Turns out he had an unusual case of late-onset Celiac-Sprue disease, and when that was figured out, within a week he was no longer in danger and ultimately died when he'd been 99 for several months. If there's a message here, it may be this: some say that if you pass 65 you're home-free, but I think you probably have to revise that upward these days. 72 seems like a good number.
7. I think I may break the habits of a lifetime, and throw myself a party when I'm 75.
No I won't: I'll guilt the children into doing it. Surely that's one of the privileges of older age!