Toronto, July 16 11.20pm

Last weekend, I attended the Paul McCartney concert in Halifax as a guest of my friend, Barb Stegemann.

From 9.00pm to about midnight, McCartney wowed the audience of 50,000 people. He looked lean, fit and tanned. He is 67 years old but he looks younger than me at 51. For three hours, he sang, chatted and charmed his way through almost five decades of hits. He didn’t rest, he didn’t pass off the load to anyone else. He worked intensely for his audience’s love and respect. He seemed to relish every moment and by the end of the night, he looked like he could carry on until morning.

That’s why I want to be like Paul. Not because he’s a global, ageless icon. Not because he’s supernaturally talented. And not because he’s been gifted with Peter Pan genes. I want to be like Paul because of his hunger for more. I want to be like Paul because of his need to work. I want to be like Paul because he craves adulation and adoration just like everyone else I know. I want to be like Paul because he’s living proof that adolescent possibility never goes out of style. Yup, I want to be like Paul because he has never fallen out of love with his gift. He hasn’t succumbed to the siren call of self-destruction. He seems oh-so normal as he practices his craft with enticing insouciance.

Age does have something to do with it. We’re all temporary phenomenons. But while we’re here we can live each day as though it were a concert aimed at thrilling a small city. That’s what I got from Paul. Work it as hard as you can. Let them see you sweat. But let them also see your mastery and hear your voice. It’s about the show. And it always goes on…