For the first time in my experience a man offered me his seat on a bus headed for the fair, and I took it; he stood as I had expected to do. It was a strange feeling to know that to him, I was old enough to be seated instead of standing for the twenty minute ride. I know I’m not as young as I feel inside. I also know I don’t look young, even though my hair hasn’t grayed. My mother used to talk about not feeling old. I didn’t understand that then as I do now.

In a family gathering I enjoy visiting with the younger relatives; I gravitate to our children and their generation, sometimes even the grandchildren seem more interesting than my generation. Their lives, careers, adventures, and dreams have an allure; vicariously I am white water rafting, skydiving, camping in the Boundary Waters, climbing to an altitude that challenges breathing, riding a horse in the Grand Canyon. All of that is more interesting to me than health problems, retirement woes, Medicare, or unfulfilled dreams.

Then there are the bucket lists people talk about. I don’t have one, though there are a few things I would like to do. Most of them are things I would like to do again. I enjoyed our trips to Costa Rica, the Broadway weekend in Manhattan, seeing the fall colors from the Superior trail, staying at a cabin in the Hamptons, visiting family in Ireland, camping our way cross country before and after NEA Conventions. As I understand the bucket list phenomenon, one has one occasion to do a thing on the list, then it’s crossed off. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a list. I like repeating good things more than I like trying something new. Although when I do step out of my comfort zone to try something, it often becomes part of my list of things I’d do again.

My tennis player has a 30-year warranty on his new knees. He wants me to stick around at least that long. Maybe we’ll make a list together.