I Am the Very Model of a Modern 95-Year-Old
(For Kenneth C. Barr, with apologies to W.S. Gilbert)
I am the very model of a modern 95-year-old
I’ve wit and wisdom, twinkling eyes, good humor, and a heart of gold
You’ll see me in my trim red cashmere sweater and my dapper cap
And think, “Say, who’s that debonair and dashing geriatric chap?”
It’s true that I don’t see or hear or golf as well as once I could
But join me for a lively conversation and I’m just as good
My mast’ry of the literary sphere is quite applaudable
With reading habits hungrier than ever, thanks to Audible
And lest you think me snobbish, I assure you I’ve an appetite
For TV anti-heroes like Soprano and that Walter White
Indeed, with all my qualities of vim and vigor manifold
I am the very model of a modern 95-year-old!
In traveling the world, I guess you’d say I’ve been a lucky ‘un
I’ve seen more foreign countries than your av-erage Kentuckian
From Renaissance cathedrals to those ancient shores Greek mythical
Beginning with my Army tour of islands South Pacifical
My youth I spent exploring all the wonders of Chicagoland
I wound up with a law degree, a redhead, and a wedding band
We built a life and made a home and put eight kids through colleges
(I daresay that’s precisely what the point of worldly knowledge is)
It seems that as a patriarch my destiny was manifest
To be not just a father but the absolute Grand-daddyest
A steady temper steered me well through life’s adventures, I’ve been told
For I’m the very model of a modern 95-year-old!
I never had much taste for all the stuff in life sensational
My modesty’s in part what makes me Greatest Generational
Yet hindsight shows me clear, despite degeneration macular
A picture of the life I’ve lived that’s really quite spectacular
These days I must confess that my idea of Fields Elys-i-an
Is reading The New Yorker at a nice café Paris-i-an
I’ll share my corner table with the woman I loved best of all
And order jambon-beurre without a care for my cholesterol
In wildest dreams, who would have thought this poor son of a dairyman
Would grow into a Southern gent and prime nonagenarian
We must conclude, the Maker when He made me simply broke the mold —
He’d built the very model of a modern 95-year-old!
