GETTING OLDER ISH. STILL IN PLAY.

I live close to a Toronto subway station and we see a lot of folks rushing to and fro. Mostly they never look up if I am standing on the porch but we see a lot of humanity. People are usually in a hurry and don't look around. They have days to fill and plans to implement.

I walk our dog Jack in the morning. He is actually my wife Jean's dog, and he looks to her for most of his needs. And, I notice since I have reached a certain age, other men my age will often look at me quickly, knowingly and one of us may say, good morning and the other will reply.

Often the reply is cordial, I find, but deferential in a way that only older guys know. "Morning Sir." Or a more than cordial nod. It's what I think is a code guys in their 60's understand. We are acknowledging our lives are in the last innings but we are still playing. Not as vigorously but we are out here. There is a certain respect guys our age grant to others in our league but you gotta know the unspoken code.

Don't intrude or ask probing questions. Just be respectful. In your look at me, look like you understand, a life has mostly been lived and it had it's moments, failures, disappointments and highs, but now we are closer to the 9th inning than the 7th inning stretch, which was our last breather.

If you are fairly well and don't have any co-morbidities, like heart disease, diabetes or arthritis you can still take a drink or 5 some days. For now... You know it's all in your genes and did your dad pass on any poor health history.

The knees and hips hurt some of us and some have already had replacements. Me, I am Gibralter          ( famous last words) I drink wine every day. Sometimes a cocktail. I have business deals pending. I wake refreshed. Nothing worse as Mark Twain wrote, "as the sleep; Which does not refresh."

My family are engaged and my wife is a marvel of the best companion you could hope for.
Tomorrow I am meeting a man I went to The Franciscan, St Francis Seminary with, fifty years ago on Staten Island, New York, 1965 when we were 15  - 16. He was from Toronto, I from Montreal. He was a great guy and an athlete.  Neither of us went on to the priesthood. I talked to him many times over the years and last year they held a reunion on the Island at the seminary, which is now virtually closed, but I could not attend. He is a successful lawyer. I'm looking forward.

What more could I hope for?