Old As Adam.

I am 68 years old. Old friends, all of whom are retired, have started a new tradition of breakfast on Thursday mornings. I am the only one who continues to work. They call the group the Bristolian Old Men (we all live in Bristol, Rhode Island). I have not attended a breakfast yet due to forgetting or having work to do. The funny thing is when we are together I feel the same strata existing among us when we were 16 years old returns. Perhaps this is an elixir against the ominous nature of advanced years.

I do not feel like an old man! Aging breeds aches that creep up on one at a slow and pacific pace. At the same time the breadth of experience evinces wisdom.

Given an angel’s choice to be 16 again, I would decline. Growing up, for me, was much harder than growing older.