More milestones (or is it millstones)?

And so we come to the talking dog’s (the reticent homo sapien behind the talkative canine) 55th birthday. Which means, for those who can’t do arithmetic, that I was born during the Cuban Missile Crisis.
Somehow, we survived that. I’d like to think that the republic (and its occupants) will survive the current crisis we are in.
OK; that’s pretty much all I have.