There seems to be a certain contentment with growing older. I can’t do all that I once could, don’t have the energy and ambition I once had, but I seem to have no trouble accepting these new realities.
I’ve packed a lot into my life, done lots of things, met lots of people, worked a lot of different jobs, been many places, and had more than my share of unusual experiences.
I’ve been a part of history on a few occasions, got to meet a couple of presidents, rubbed elbows with several important politicians, and spent an enjoyable evening with Mother Teresa in a Calcutta bar (Okay, that one may not be true).
I married and spend a good part of my life with the only woman I ever wanted to be with.Helped raise three children that I dearly love and who have blessed us with four grandchildren that have done nothing but further enrich our lives.
I also got to earn my living doing something I truly loved, teaching young people. Besides helping me feel fulfilled and putting food on my family’s table, teaching literally brought thousands of people into my life and many have remained life-long friends. It’s a wonderful thing to walk into a restaurant and have a former student of forty-years ago shake your hand or give you a hug and somehow tell you that you were important to them.
When one puts their life in perspective and comes up with what I have, how can you not feel a sense of contentment. Plus, I’m not dead yet and still have plans to pack in more of what this world has to offer.