I'm now well into the seventh decade of my life, which means, as we all know, that I am in my sixties.

Which means that much of my life can be found in my rear-view mirror. Or could mean that, if I would let it.

I've pretty much decided that, notwithstanding the promise of an early childhood, I'm unlikely ever to be the President of the United States, for example. And I've come to terms with that.

I'm also unlikely, living as humbly as circumstances require, ever to become a millionaire, let alone a billionaire. Although that may be a bit less certain, at least if I prove to have the "right stuff" for the later years of my life.

Take, for instance, Boone Pickens, the subject of a commentary in Saturday's Wall Street Journal (and, damn, you may still need a subscription to go to the source on that):

When you sit down to chat with Boone Pickens, the oil man from Oklahoma who is now invested in everything from natural gas to groundwater rights to wildlife preserves, you can't help but be impressed by the numbers.

Last year, Mr. Pickens earned $1.1 billion from his stake in Dallas-based BP Capital, which runs two huge hedge funds that heavily invest in energy. His bet that natural gas prices would fall paid off as BP Capital's commodity fund returned a whopping 54% after fees.

When I met him earlier this year near his part-time home here, Mr. Pickens made clear that at age 79 he is just hitting his stride.

I like the sound of that. And I like even more, this:

He proudly notes that his accountant has told him he has paid 90% of all the taxes he has ever given to the government since he turned 70.

Now that I could live with, I believe.

Onward, then, and . . .

Upward.

I hope.

Update:

And then, too, there was Harland (Colonel) Sanders, who waited until pretty much his eighth decade to get the message of his recipe out into the world.

He only became a millionaire as a result, but hey, that's not chicken feed, either, is it.

Okay.

Sorry about that.

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