Many years ago, when I heard The Beatles’ song “When I’m Sixty-Four,” I didn’t really understand what this historic and classic song was about. And I didn’t understand it for two logical reasons: first, I didn’t know the lyrics because I didn’t know Shakespeare’s language; and second, because I knew nothing about retirement. Due to life’s circumstances, my father died before retirement age, and my mother didn’t know anything about it either, as she wasn’t aware of what that thing was. In short, she knew nothing about widow’s pensions, nor did any of us—a ten-pack of my brothers and sisters from a little ranch.
Now, here in Chapala, in the year 2026, retired and looking back, I understand the lyrics and melody of that song much better. Or rather, I am beginning to recognize the hidden routes life traces through this Rattle World (Mundo Matraca). I’m beginning to understand that, like myself, retired foreigners along the shores of Lake Chapala are branches returning to the trunk from which we sprang, after a lifetime of offering seeds, flowers, and fruit to the world.
Without fear of being wrong, I can say that here we are in an Aleph of sorts, a place where countless lives converge; a Babel of languages and accents; a Mexican cocoon; a kind of utopian Gerontolandia, that place so longed for by all the elderly people of the world. A place where all the nostalgia, longing, and other trinkets, odds and ends, known and unknown, pile up. Whether we suffer from that familiar ailment called homesickness or not, here in Chapala and Ajijic we find its remedy, the panacea, the balm, and the elixir for almost all the world’s ills: the climate.
And yes, here along the Chapala Riviera, members of the Silent and Baby Boom Generations live, coexist, and grow old together. Each of us is preparing our own conclusions about this book called Life, lived in this world called Earth and in this fleeting moment called Today. We express those conclusions in whatever form suits us: written, spoken, painted, photographed, videotaped, posted on Facebook, scribbled, pondered, WhatsApped, etc. These Conclusions can be few or many, or neither few nor many. Each person does it their own way, as Paul Anka would say. After all, as the Mexican proverb reminds us, “Everyone speaks of the fair according to how it goes for them.”
In other words, in The Beatles’ song, we find many real musical and conceptual passages with which I at least feel very connected to here in Chapala. For example, the clarinet’s musical rhythm, giving it vintage tones and touches, makes the song resonate not only in our ears but throughout our entire being, to infinity and beyond, as Buzz Lightyear says. And then there’s that bit about the grandchildren on our knees, which most of us know the meaning of, creating a strange yet nostalgic déjà vu.
“Many years from now” in the song sounds like a cosmic warning. You can almost see it wagging a finger and saying, “Get ready, my friend. Don’t say you weren’t warned. Sooner or later, you’ll be a cute little old-timer too, hehe.” And that goes for all Mexicans, foreigners, and even Martians passing through the galaxy. This is a truth of interplanetary proportions.
And I’m happy to be on this earth surrounded by foreigners, where none of us feel like foreigners, but rather an integrated Great Interplanetary
Brotherhood in which we have many things in common: history, cinema, television, radio, literature, cultures, gastronomy, music, dance, the Internet, Natural Intelligence, Emotional Intelligence, Artificial Intelligence, and all Other Intelligences that may come. And laughter. Lots of laughter. And also bittersweet aches and pains, spicy and pungent injections, bitter medicines, doctor’s appointments, and a little bit of everything in God’s little supermarket.
Yes, after having lived on four continents (I said lived, not merely known) and after watching almost seven decades pass by, I believe The Beatles’ song celebrates something deeper than a lesson your mother gives you at breakfast or lunch. It celebrates those truths that only make sense many years later, when you finally admit that your mother was right and you were the one who wasn’t listening.
Back then, when we were young, the words and situations life placed before us were like baseballs or soccer balls we couldn’t catch. We were not old enough, tall enough, experienced enough, or skillful enough to reach them. Only with time do we discover that those missed catches contained some of life’s most important lessons.
So, from the bottom of my heart to The Beatles, I say thank you for this anthem and for all your lovingly crafted songs. ¡Muchas Gracias!
Hugo Medrano holds a doctorate in literature from the University of Guadalajara. He has been a visiting professor and lecturer at several universities in Canada, the United States, Europe, and Latin America. Currently, in his free time, he has been drawing and washing pots, pans, casserole dishes, and cutlery at home.
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- The Beatles, Mexicans and Foreigners in Chapala - July 31, 2026
