So far, so good.

Can’t say. That when I was a kid. I ever gave thought. To what it must be like to be an octogenarian. I had trouble counting that high. Much less imagining that I’d be 82 some day. Probably. I once thought that anyone in his 80s was ancient. And to reach 100 was equivalent to eclipsing Methuselah. So here I am. Not yet a Methuselah. I don’t feel old and decrepit. Other than occasionally.  When my spirits are low. But I do think more. About my mortality. Than I did as a youngster. I suppose that’s a good thing.   Or so I’m told. By most any psychotherapist. Be prepared. Which, incidentally, is the motto of the Boy Scouts. I was a scout . Unfortunately, an ill-prepared one. But I got by. Earning merit badges. And a rank of senior patrol leader. Amazing. But even more amazing. I’m a survivor. With first hand knowledge of what it’s like. To be an octogenarian. All I have to say. So far, so good. --Jim Broede