In my seventh year I was new, so I didn’t know what to do. By my thirteenth I’d found the knack, of talent I had no lack. My seventeenth was really fun. This life I felt I’d won. By twenty-three I’d become so wise, but I thought I’d never live to fifty-nine. Now the years are no trial. I live them only one at a time. Today as everyday I’m born again. Ninety-one years, seven months, and eleven days I’ve lived, and I’m still in the prime of life.
December 1969