Today's my son Allen's birthday. He's 35. Which is odd, since it seems as if he couldn't possibly be more than 6 or 7. The years since he was born have gone by so fast that it's downright scary. When you reach a certain age, "The months seem like days," my father-in-law once told me. That was a long time ago, and I had no idea until recently how right he was.
My son shares a birthday with a lot of famous people, including Miss Kitty Wells, the Queen of Country Music, who turns 86 today. I recall quite well the days (well over 50 years ago) when "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels" was a huge hit. It seemed to be playing on the radio at my house all the time, at least during the day. At night we listened to other programming.
And R. Crumb is 62 today. When Allen was a little kid, we'd go to Oat Willie's in Austin, and I'd pick up the latest underground comics, most of which were drawn in great part by Crumb. I expect Oat Willie's is long gone by now, though it seems like only yesterday that I'd plunk down my dough for a copy of Zap Comix. Now I see Crumb's work in The New Yorker.
Cameron Diaz is 33. I guess she's too young for me, so I won't return her calls.