Is Aging Funny?

As we were building our network of charter schools, probably in our fourth year, I was working on our first application for a State Department sponsored Egyptian teacher to teach Arabic to our students. I was pulling the application together, enclosing the resumes of our teachers who’d host and mentor our visiting Egyptian.  Looking at Stephanie’s resume, I noticed that she’d graduated from Sacred Heart University. Wow. I taught there in the late 70’s. What a coincidence. Did she know any of my friends on the sociology faculty? I looked again at Stephanie’s resume. Stephanie hadn’t been born when I taught at Sacred Heart. I got such a kick out of this. I told my Stephanie story to all my friends. These young teachers could be my children. Ha-ha.

When we honored one of our young leaders at an annual breakfast of the Staten Island Not-For-Profit Association, I sat at a table with her and her brother and her parents and her grandparents. Her grandparents bonded with me. They were my age. This was hilarious too, another story to tell and retell. Our teachers were young enough to be my grandchildren. Ha-ha.

I keep getting older, and it’s not always funny. I’m not walking as much as I did when I retired four years ago, maybe half as much, but I’m happy that I’m still averaging 8000 steps a day. I’m walking more slowly. I’m not laughing about that. I don’t pass many people on my walks. Some of the people who pass me look older than me. I tell myself they’re probably a lot younger than they look. That is funny. I’m smiling. But mostly I’m grateful to be walking. I’m so glad that Staten Island has so many parks. I worry sometimes how I’m going to get to the parks when I’m no longer able to drive safely. Then I wonder if maybe I’ll be driving longer than I’m walking. That gets a smile too. Part of getting older is learning to appreciate the beautiful uncertainty of things.