TRAMEL'S TAKE
Turning 60 means you've got a lot more memories to enjoy,
Thirty years ago this week, I penned a column for the Norman Transcript on turning 30 years old.
Funny thing about math. Some of it sticks. I can't remember why 2x=3y squared, but I know what 30 plus 30 means.
My twin brother and I turn 60 on Wednesday. We were born the day JFK was inaugurated; I missed the Eisenhower administration by 5½ hours and am glad I did. Knowing I was born under a president elected in 1952 might make me feel old. We turned 20 the day Reagan was inaugurated, 40 the day George W. moved into the White House and 60 on Biden's big day.
Some say that time flies, but to me, it's in the slow lane. Let me ask you. Did 2020 zip by?
My granddaughters are 14, 11 and 9. I don't really remember much about life before them. My daughter was born in 1982. Seems like 1882 since I pushed her around the living room in a stroller so I could watch the Cardinals-Brewers World Series.
I guess it's a blessing, this notion that time moves slowly. Is 60 supposed to be old? Doesn't seem old to me. I don't feel old, except when I have to change a password every other day or play catch with Sadie and my rotator cuff screams, “GO SEE A DOCTOR!”
I realized a long time ago that I have more yesterdays than tomorrows, but I don't know if that's a bad thing. The glory of tomorrows is all the memories you can make, but the glory of yesterdays is all the memories you can enjoy. I've got a lot of good memories.
In that Norman Transcript column 30 years ago, I listed all the ways you know you're 30. Stands to reason the same goes for 60.
You know you're 60 if you went to Municipal Stadium to see Mickey Mantle play against the Kansas City Athletics.
You know you're 60 if you remember Scott Martin shooting jumpers for his foul shots in the OU Field House.
You know you're 60 if you remember football games called by Bud Wilkinson and Chris Schenkel.
You know you're 60 if you remember Barnabas Collins.
You know you're 60 if you covered wrestling in the glorious old Gallagher Hall.
You know you're 60 if you saw the Dallas Cowboys play in the Cotton Bowl.
You know you're 60 if you remember dunking being against the rules.
You know you're 60 if your dad sent a portable television to school so you could watch the World Series.
You know you're 60 if you remember Bob Barry Sr. calling Steve Owens touchdowns on the radio.
You know you're 60 if you remember when only Underwood's Pit BBQ offered free refills on Cokes and Dr Peppers.
You know you're 60 if you remember when the 3-point line existed only in the ABA.
You know you're
60 if you watched the All-College Basketball Tournament at State Fair Arena.
You know you're 60 if you remember the first NFL night game.
You know you're 60 if you remember Red Skelton.
You know you're 60 if
you remember the Sugar Bowl played at high noon in Tulane Stadium.
You know you're 60 if you remember the afro of OSU's red-headed sharpshooter, Kevin Fitzgerald.
You know you're 60 if you remember when Bobby Orr was the greatest hockey player of all time.
You know you're 60 if you saw the Twins play in Metropolitan Stadium.
You know you're 60 if you remember the flags that lined the top wall of OU's Memorial Stadium, for every opponent the Sooners had played.
You know you're 60 if you remember goal posts on the goal line.
You know you're 60 if you remember The Flying Nun.
You know you're 60 if you remember the opulence of the Myriad.
You know you're 60 if you remember waiting for the local 10 p.m. sportscast to get baseball scores.
You know you're 60 if you remember the NIT
being a big deal.
You know you're 60 if you remember Floyd Gass coaching the Cowboys.
You know you're
60 if you saw Orlando Cepeda play first base on a summer night in St. Louis.
You know you're 60 if you remember appliance stores advertising color televisions.
You know you're 60 if you remember Bill Russell breaking another color barrier, brilliantly analyzing NBA games on ABC.
You know you're 60 if you remember the Boston Patriots, the Cincinnati Royals, the Baltimore Bullets and the Washington Senators.
I remember them all and more. They don't make me wistful. They don't make me melancholy. They make me marvel at all that's come and all that's to be.
When I turned 30, I received a birthday card. The cover read, “It ain't over `til it's over.”
On the inside, it read, “It's over.”
The card was wrong. Wasn't over at 30. It's not over at 60. See you at 90.
Berry Tramel: Berry can be reached at 405-7608080 or at btramel@ oklahoman.com. He can be heard Monday through Friday from 4:40-5:20 p.m. on The Sports Animal radio network, including FM-98.1. Support his work and that of other Oklahoman journalists by purchasing a digital subscription today.