Tyrades! Will you still need me, will you still feed me?

During my career as a late-in-life columnist, I have been blessed with the opportunity to chronicle three birthdays ending in zero.

(My so-called “good” cholesterol has not exactly overperformed in helping me reach these milestones. It usually “phones in” its duties, and even then apologizes, “Sorry, driving into a dead zone here” an awful lot of the time.)

It’s six years until another “big” birthday; but as a Beatles fan, I have eagerly anticipated writing this essay about the fast-approaching day “when I’m sixty-four.”

(And as an Elton John fan, I’ve eagerly anticipated building up the nerve...