When Don Ho turns 76 today, he'll be on stage in Waikiki, as he has been for nearly 45 years. But he admits to no longer feeling ageless. He's still the undisputed king of Waikiki entertainers, and he's had a colorful reign, but Ho's lifestyle, along with his show and even his sense of humor, have changed in the past years as he has faced health issues and struggled to prevail.

"I never thought I was my age until they showed me my picture taken in a hospital bed and underneath, (the caption) said I was 75," Ho said a few days ago, over a late lunch of clam chowder and poi at Don Ho's Island Grill overlooking Honolulu Harbor. "All these years, I thought I was going to live forever."

The picture was taken while Ho recovered from a cutting-edge procedure he sought to regenerate heart muscle last December in Thailand. In the process, Ho's stem cells, derived from his own blood, were injected into his heart.

He had been wild, carefree, a carouser — but Ho said he has virtually no regrets.

However, last year a Hono-lulu doctor told Ho his heart was damaged almost beyond repair. The performer blacked out one night while performing. His heart was operating at a dismal 10 percent of capacity, and he was often breathless and exhausted.

"You cannot be fearful when you don't have other alternatives," said Ho. So he pursued the stem-cell procedure, performed in Thailand because it is not yet approved for use in this country.

Ho said it now feels like his heart is up to 50 percent capacity, bringing new hope.

"If it gets to 50 percent, I would have a really good life," he said. "But I'm looking for 100."

His experience has turned him into a rabid reader of health and fitness magazines; one of his favorites is Men's Health. He exercises, has checkups every three months, takes supplements that "don't damage other parts of your body," and watches what he eats and what he does.

Happily, he hasn't had a blackout on stage again, but his body has thrown him other challenges. "One of my lungs collapsed," he matter-of-factly revealed.

His cholesterol count is good; his arteries and veins clear.

"I've had these feelings I never had before," he said of his good days. "I used to have a hard time breathing. If you watch the show, you might be seeing me taking deep breaths (now).

"I'm not ready for a 12-mile walk," he said. "But I do some walking around. I still work around the house, but I cannot climb stairs too much."

TRYING HARD TO BEHAVE

Known for his love of the nightlife and the ladies (Ho has 10 children, has been married once and has liaisons he declines to discuss), he kept a trademark glass at the ready during his performances. These days, it holds nonalcoholic stuff. No more Scotch, no more glass-after-glass of wine, "except for an occasional sip (from someone else's glass)," he said. "I don't go there anymore. ... I'm really set on trying to see if I can behave. I cannot go back there anymore."

During a recent show, Ho sipped from a wine glass containing red liquid. "Pomegranate juice," he said later, though he quipped to his audience, "this is Geritol."

"If I have water, the people will think it's vodka," he joked.

He performs twice a week, skippering an easygoing, relaxed show following a format he has used for decades. His pop-Hawaiian songs are interspersed with music from others, some who've shared the stage with him for generations, some who are new to Waikiki audiences. This summer, the youngest of his children, son Keali'i "K-Boy" Ho, 19, is performing with his dad while on summer break from his San Diego college.

"He's a legend, very much part of Honolulu, like Diamond Head, the Arizona Memorial, 'Iolani Palace," said visitor Laurence Bloom, of Baltimore, after the show. "I really wanted to see him, and this is my first opportunity. He was wonderful."

Ho said his late mother's club, Honey's, a homey Kane'ohe watering hole, was the inspiration for his foray into show business.

"If my mom didn't have Honey's, I might be driving a cab today, or maybe running a saloon, doing what my mother did," he said.

The concept was simple: bring talented people on stage, revolving around Ho and his persona. Keep the mood light, informal.

He liked what he heard when he first encountered Matt Pablo, now 14, then 12 and singing at a family wedding. "The boy's intelligent, articulate," Ho said — and good enough for a slot in the current revue. Pablo now performs, among other things, a sweetly patriotic "God Bless the U.S.A."

"First you look at the heart — humility and all that stuff," Ho said.

Taimane Gardner, a 17-year-old singer-'ukulele soloist, is another bud that's blossoming in front of Ho's crowds with her remarkable dexterity on the uke, fusing classics with pop with rock. "She was playing on the beach when we heard about her," Ho said. "Audiences have reacted well, and she's improved."

Christina Youngs, a karaoke contest winner, has joined the performing family, too; among her vocals is "Kanaka Waiwai."

"I always support young talent. But sometimes, they don't leave," he said with tongue in cheek, alluding to Angel Pablo, who sings belters such as "Granada" with an operatic aura, and Tokyo Joe, a fiddling country singer. They have been Ho regulars for decades.

This casual format has been in place ever since Ho's breakout gig at Duke Kahanamoku's in the International Market Place in 1962, and since has been replayed, with occasional cast changes, in subsequent stands at such venues as the Hilton Hawaiian Village Dome, the Polynesian Palace of the Cinerama then Outrigger Reef Towers Hotel.

All these clubs are now gone — Ho's survived them all.

"The one thing I'll never outlive is Hawai'i," he said.

LONG LIVE 'TINY BUBBLES'

Ho is grateful for the hit songs that have shaped his career. Originals composed by the late Kui Lee, including "I'll Remember You" and "One Paddle, Two Paddle" have remained staples of his live performances.

His biggest hit was 1966's "Tiny Bubbles," a composition by Leon Pober that he says he was practically coerced into recording in a local studio.

"I feel lucky," he said in retrospect. "At least I had one hit song everybody really liked.

"Whether I like it or not, that song will outlast me, too, and everything else. But not everybody is that lucky."

He does have one memory he wished he could erase. It happened at the Polynesian Palace, in the 1980s.

At the time, he used to kiss all the grandmas who'd line up on stage — a practice that was legendary.

"I'd kiss them all, one at a time," said Ho. "The (other) customers would complain, because I would kiss 50 grandmas ... and I'm talking about real kisses. Whammo! I became a pretty good kisser."

On this particular night, a white-haired grandma — "I swear, you're never going to meet a more beautiful grandma than this one" — came up, like on any other night, to get a smooch.

"I must have kissed good," said Ho. "Two seconds (later), she died of a heart attack. That is one (moment) I would like to forget."

That fatal kiss put an end to his kissing routine. " 'She went happy,' her son said to me; he was there: 'No worry, she died happy.' I talked to her husband, who was on the Mainland; I called to apologize (and) he was gracious. I told him this shouldn't have happened to her."

He used to gargle publicly after the kissing parade, and when he abandoned the practice, observers thought the looming AIDS epidemic might have been a factor.

Not so. But, Ho said, "AIDS stopped me from screwing around."

He doesn't fret about his own mortality, living one day at a time. Retirement is not yet in his vocabulary because there's still a lot he wants to do.

"I just wanna finish what I haven't finished around the house," Ho said. "... I'm good at putting things up, but finishing takes time. I'm looking for a son-in-law to come live with us and do this."

His contract with the Beachcomber expires in the months ahead, and Ho said he's keeping his options fluid. Sure, he enjoys his work, but he's likely to sort out priorities — with his health a major consideration.

If and when he retires, Ho said he'd like an extended vacation, but not in a distant or exotic locale. He wants to hop on a plane, "put on a nice RV with me, and visit every Island, drive down every road, to the end of the road ... (because) there's a Hawaiian family living there for years and years and years, growing taro, catching 'opelu."

And how will he mark the spirit of 76 today?

"I going take off," Ho smiled, hinting he'd skip his performance.

"We're sold out," cautioned his aide, Haumea Hebenstreit, who is always by his side.

Ho sighed. "In the old days, when I say I not going be there, I ain't gonna be there."

That was then; this is now. He'll sing "Tiny Bubbles" as he usually does — twice — during his show.