I’m trying to learn how to grow old. Gracefully. Ain’t easy. But I’m making progress. When I was 65, I was able to climb on a treadmill and run a 7-minute mile. Wouldn’t do that today. Wouldn’t even try. I have more sense. I just turned 74 in September. And I generally walk 6 to 10 miles a day. Including 14-minute miles. Some weeks I go 70 miles. Doubt that I’ll be as adept and agile if I reach my 80s. But hey, I’ll figure out something in an attempt to stay physically active. Sure, I wish I had a younger body. In prime condition. But I have to accept the fact of aging. I can’t do everything as well as I used to. But in some respects, I’m better at 74 than I was at 34 or 44. For instance, I have a better command of the English language. And more life experience. I suspect that makes me more expressive. More knowledgeable. Maybe even more human. By the time my dear wife Jeanne reached 74, she was trying to cope with Alzheimer’s. She died almost three years ago. So far, I’ve been lucky. And I hope to continue that way. I’m in love. I travel to Italy. And Scotland. I’m a retired writer, in a sense. No longer writing for newspapers. But I still write. Daily. A blog. And love letters. Really, all sorts of things. Keeps my mind as active as my body. Oh, I suppose I do dread a little bit losing my health, my physical and mental being. But I don’t dwell on it. I live one day at a time. And try to make the most and best of it. Savoring life. I suppose that’s the advantage of growing old. Gives one more time to learn. And savor. –Jim

Jim, your encouraging words give me hope for my own older years.

Iris L.