Today you enter rarified air

Today the world will stop and stare

We admire you lady, we honor you gent

For a milestone reached, the elite one percent

You’re decent at games, sometimes you get first

But as Papa once said, “Our luck runs in squirts”

You excel at cooking, your slaw makes us roar

Our mouths often water, when our lips touch a S’More

Your reading, less impressive, it makes our mood sour

When you stare at a menu, for hours and hours!

Your hearing, even worse, much to our dismay

You’ll oft shrug your shoulders, no matter what we say

Your appetite, declining, “no seconds for us”

If it’s not La Fogata, there’s no need to discuss

You’re better at shopping, though you just browse and stare

With Papa in the parking lot, asleep and unaware

A trip to the mailbox, your high point each day

“Let it be Publisher’s Clearinghouse, this we pray, this we pray”

But you’re not lacking money, this next one quite true

You once pulled $1000, from a hole in your shoe!

Your fashion unique, pajamas tucked into socks

Just an old white Urkel, Papa’s look really rocks

Your tv tastes absurd, very different than ours

Find a program on cholesterol, and listen for hours

Your phone skills are lacking, your messages obscure

On one fateful voice text, Jan found you cussing at her!

New eyes and new hips, just add oils and lubes

But we’re afraid, before long, you’ll invest in new… knees!

You’re two peas in a pod, never separated for long

Two meant to be together, and that’s not at all wrong

You’re quirky, you’re strange, sometimes downright odd

But there are no couples we know, who are more “all in” on God

And this marriage thing, you have figured it out

The love, the commitment, with you, there’s no doubt

65 years together, the less than one percent

We admire you lady, we honor you gent

Today you enter rarified air

Today the world will stop and stare