The story
How this started
In January 2007 my friend Tom died. He was 64. A month later I wrote him a letter, and in it I told him about a plan:
“I told my kids I was going to have a “Still Alive at 65, Birthday Celebration and Me-morial Service” and then repeat it at 75, 85, and 95.”My letter to Tom, February 21, 2007
I said I'd do it so I could be around to hear what people had to say, while it still might do me some good. I also admitted that it would take planning, which I had delegated to Bobbi for our whole marriage. (She would say abdicated.) So “there’s a good chance that nothing will come of it.”
Something is coming of it. At 85, it's a musical. Here's how the rest of the series has gone.
What it's about
In 2012 I turned 70 and started a blog called 70 Years Old WTF, because I couldn't believe I was old. “Wasn't I thirty years old just a half-hour ago?” I've written 970 posts since. They're about getting old, about my mother (the Queen of F—ing Everything), about God (the one I don't believe in), about raising AIs, and mostly about Bobbi, my wife of fifty-three years.
Bobbi died on January 27, 2024. I woke up next to her, and she wasn't breathing. The show doesn't skip that part. It doesn't skip the fifty-three years before it, either.
The show is built from those posts, in three acts.
The boy
Brooklyn, 1942, and everything before Bobbi.
Bobbi
Fifty-three years, a long-running comedy act, and my promise to die last. I kept it.
Still being written
So am I.
Why a musical
Because I want you to walk out of the theater thinking what I once wrote: “Well if that asshole can do it, then I can, too. Maybe even better.” Inspiration, not admiration. Same words. Different music.
And because, as I also once wrote: “I’m not dead yet. And if you’re reading this, I guarantee that you are not dead yet, either.” That seems worth a song.
