I will become 71 this month, an age that I never, ever, in my least imagining, ever thought I would achieve. I kind of dreaded becoming that antiquated. Many of the folks I have known in my life did not reach that age, and many who did, were living lives of such quiet desperation, that no outpouring of love from me seemed to make any kind of dent in. I dreaded being old and sad.
Fortunately, who I became in the in-between times, has changed my perspective a great deal. Now I am that old, and not quiet, (certainly not that!), not desperate, not too sad, I find that my life goes on much the same. I have a large multicultural international family, with lots of people to love, and lots of hope through them, for the future. 

Love especially. Love seems to spring from an unquenchable place inside of me. I cannot give it away fast enough to slow the tide. Since I have no children of my loins, I have just made my own family by loving people, and making myself a part of their life. My optimism carries me forward every morning. In spending 20 years trying to teach girls in Mexico how to take control of their lives and create a path forward, I have learned how to do that for me, too. I guess it works ok. You teach what you most need to learn, sometimes. I am a lucky boy.
This week I have been working in an old folks home patching holes in the walls, and like that. It is a largish facility, and full of people who need the care that it offers. I see the same people every day, shuffling along or scooting with their wheelchairs. They look me in the eyes, and in some, I see their complete puzzlement with how they got there. At first, it made me sad. But after a couple days I got over thinking of it from my own perspective, and realized that I have a smile and empathy to offer them as I pass. 

Yesterday I had a conversation with a woman who spoke to me completely in what I think was Vietnamese. She talked to me for about 10 minutes. I could not answer her in her language because I don’t know it, but I smiled at her, and listened to what she was saying with an interested face, because it seemed that she just needed to tell me her story. When you are that old, your story is what you have left to offer. Her language was mellifluous and like a song. I smiled and nodded lovingly at her and her need to tell her story. I may not have understood what she was saying, but it was obvious that she needed someone to listen, and I gave her a sympathetic ear. When she finished her story, she seemed more peaceful, and wandered on with her endless journey up and down the halls.

It reminded me of a song by one of my favorite musicians, John Prine.

You know that old trees just grow stronger

And old rivers grow wilder every day

Old people just grow lonesome

Waiting for someone to say, Hello in there, Hello.

So if you’re walking down the street sometime

And spot some hollow ancient eyes

Please don’t just pass them by and stare

As if you didn’t care, Say hello in there,

Hello.

There, but for the grace of God, go I.

Choose love.  <3
Be your best you.   <3.