In spite of what the world sees (and the mirror tells us), deep inside most of us seventy-somethings feel like we’re still forty. 

We aren’t. 

Until I retired last fall, I wasn’t “old”. Was it working with students that kept me feeling young?  Or was it the sense of identity and purpose that came with my job?

When I started at my learning-in-retirement program, I wondered what I was doing with all those old folks.  How could I be one of them?  It turns out that those “old folks” have rich experience, tremendous energy and generosity of spirit, regardless of their wrinkled faces and faltering steps.  We learn from each other every day.

I am a lucky “old” person.  I take only one pill.  I still ride my bike and I still have my love of so many years.

But…I am old.