There are many things that I can say about my approaching 70th birthday. The first thought that comes to mind is, “Oh my Lord, that’s old!” At the bank the other day, the branch manager, on learning my age told me that I looked good. “I would guess that you were no more than 65,” he said. Wow. Thanks for the compliment pal.

So many trite things are said about age. “You are only as old as you feel.” “Age is just a number.” “Seventy is the new sixty.”  Are these words to live by in my twilight years, or am I just being given false hope for what may follow?

I just heard about a 91-year-old man who finished the Appalachian Trail. His moniker is “Gray Beard.” I read about bicyclists in their eighties finishing amazing rides from sea to shining sea. I watch Bob Thornton and Katy Paolini, both older than I am, work with enthusiasm and energy. This gives me hope for the future!

In my mind, I am not stooped shouldered and limping. What I see when I look back at security footage at school belies that fantasy. Who is that old man? While I walk like an old man, and when I go down the stairs, I hold onto the railing as if it is my best friend, something magical happens to me when I get on my bicycle. I feel the same as when I was riding footloose and fancy free on the streets of Northport, New York when I was a kid. I pedal better than I walk.

My command of names has slipped a little My brain takes a few seconds to get people’s names out of my mouth. That is why if I look at you and I seem in a trance for a moment it is my brain rebooting. Twice I have called students by their parents’ name. I suppose I do get credit because I knew both parents when they were children.

One of the unfortunate things that happen to you as you age is that a vast majority of the adults you looked up to as a child are gone. First and foremost, I include my parents, grandparents, Aunts and Uncles. But sports idols from my youth: Brooks Robinson in baseball, Johnny Unitas in football, Wes Unseld in basketball (the old Baltimore Bullets) have passed. I can still see the movie stars of my younger days on the screen but legendary actors such as Paul Newman (to whom I got the pleasure of serving a bratwurst at the Mid-Ohio Racetrack) and Lauren Bacall (I named my oldest daughter after her) are no longer around. It seems that only the rock and rollers of my youth seem to hang on for more concerts in their eighties! Keith Richards still going strong? C’mon!

The joy of growing old includes seeing my children as adults and watching my ten grandchildren grow. My oldest, grandson, Brady, is in high school! I wrote each of my grandchildren a letter on the day they were born. They are to open it when they turn 21. God willing, I might still be around to witness the event.

I don’t see myself quitting working. Mr. Thornton and Mrs. Paolini put me to shame. I have a lot of people (is that a hint?) ask me when I am going to retire as principal of Our Lady of Peace. There are days that I think I can truly work here until my one-year-old grandson, Johnny graduates from eighth grade. There are other days that make me wonder if I will make it until the weekend! I pray that when my effectiveness is over, that people will tell me that it is time to hang it up. I promise I will go quietly!

In the meantime, for as long as God grants me life I will wake up each morning, tell Him that I will try harder, ask for his assistance in doing that, and pray for all those people whom I have been asked to do so. To make this happen, I go to bed pretty early each evening. For my 70th birthday I will most probably do the same!  No party. No celebratory glass of spirits. Just a grateful end to another day of living with a few pages of a good book until I fall asleep, tired but blessed.

 Jim Silcott