Cake and candles for Richard Starkey.

So as of Wednesday, Ringo Starr will be 70.

Seventy. Se-ven-ty.

I’ll just let that sink in for a mo.

In my mind, the Beatles are always and forever the age that they were around about the time of  Sgt. Pepper’s, Magical Mystery Tour, White Album, that era (a time at which I, being a 1964 baby, was unaware of their existence) — fully grown into their talent, comfortable (or so it might seem) in their skins, beautiful. They were so young then (now 45 years old myself, I am today literally old enough to be the mother of those lads in the marching band outfits), and yet in my mind, they are Adult and Wise and, well, Beautiful, in a bigger sense than the merely, sheerly physical. True, I suppose.

But whatever may be happening in the depths of my mind, however True they were at that young age, it is also true that they are no longer young. Hell, half of them are no longer alive. And Ringo is 70.

He has, honestly, aged well, better than the Cute One, with all due respect to the Cute One. Craggy ages well, as do big noses, and that’s the charm that Ringo always brought. Ringo is still beautiful, if differently so.

And he is still making music and I get the distinct impression that he cares not a whit as to whether or not he is still making waves. He gets to do what he loves and he makes loads of people happy with it — honestly, does it get better than that? I think not.

Every time I hear or read an interview, I like Ringo more. He seems to put a genuine premium on honesty — he rather famously entered a 12-step program in his middle years, of course, and those who truly work the program are often the least likely in any room to countenance bullshit. When Paul threatened to change the song-writing credits on certain songs to read “McCartney-Lennon,” Ringo went on record in Rolling Stone saying that he thought it a very shabby thing to do (and no, I can’t provide a link — you try googling “McCartney-Lennon Ringo Starr Rolling Stone”. Go ahead – I’ll wait.) (Exactly). And then he went ahead and asked Paul to sing on his latest album.

And in a similar vein, I’ve always loved how entirely he owns his talent. He’s one of the best drummers in the history of the instrument and he knows it and doesn’t mind saying so. And why on earth should he? Our constant demand that our best and brightest pretend that they may not be either is a very silly thing indeed.

And, finally, and not for nothing, but Ringo is the person who once said “You rock n’ roll ’til you can’t rock n’ roll no more. Then you tap-dance” — and those, my friends, are words to live by.

Another true thing is that there were probably more important things for me to write about today than my rambling thoughts about a rock star’s birthday. I mean, God Almighty, the Prime Minister of Israel was in Washington DC — isn’t that what I’m supposed to be on about?

But Ringo, man – Ringo. He is part of what is right about this world. To the extent that any of us think that we will ever be able to make the world a better place, to the extent that any of us learned to break free of constraints to find what really matters to us and our own hearts — Ringo and the Beatles are a part of why.

So, Ringo? Wherever you are, I send you all my best wishes for peace and love (and I promise to do the fingers-in-a-V thingie at twelve noon, even if it’s only to my computer screen, in my wee little home office), and I send you many, many, copious thanks. You’re a jewel in humanity’s crown, and I am grateful to have come of age in world that you helped to shape.

Happy Birthday, Ringo. May you never be reduced to tap-dancing.

Posted by emilylhauser on July 6, 2010

https://emilylhauserinmyhead.wordpress.com/2010/07/06/cake-and-candles-for-richard-starkey/