I was born on July 18, 1948; somehow I have managed to chalk up 78 years, mostly through dumb-luck, good genes, and the gift of good physical and mental health.

How does it feel to be 78 you might ask? Pretty good, for the most part. I certainly don’t feel like I am 18, 38, or even 68, but I can still be physically active and enjoy walking and dancing–but am crap at swimming. I never was much of a runner and please don’t ask me to run a 100-yard dash, but otherwise. 

In the last decade, I have had some medical scares, open-heart surgery six years ago and a detached retina a couple of years ago. I almost certainly wouldn’t be alive today and definitely would be blind in my left eye without modern medicine. My dear Mother will turn 98 on July 22; she really has better genes than me, I think.

It’s scary facing getting older—Mom drove until her early 90’s and lived on her own until she was 95, but these last three years have been very difficult. She had to move into assisted living, and her health seems to degenerate almost daily. Her macular degeneration and glaucoma have robbed her of most of her sight—image not being able to see the face of your loved ones much less the food on your dinner plate. 

Mom can still walk but needs to use a walker to keep from falling, and someone of course has to help her to get from her room to the dining hall. Still, she is almost always upbeat & cheerful. But getting old is not for sissies, as they say, and I am not really sure that I will be able to meet the advancing years with her equanimity and stoicism.

But until that time comes I hope to be able to greet each day like the gift it is. There is always something interesting or worthwhile to do and friends and family to love and cherish. What a lucky man am I!