Perhaps this recently crossed threshold would seem less impactful if I simply called it by a different name,  In Spain, for example, I would be ochenta  In France, I could celebrate having become quatre-vingt,  In Italy, the magic word is ottanta.  But try as I will, there is no getting around it:

I just turned eighty years of age.

That being so, one thought immediately comes to mind … my goodness, that certainly happened fast!  Seems like only yesterday I was playing ball behind Park School in Ossining, New York, and hitch-hiking up Route 9 to Croton Point for a dip in the Hudson River.  With the passage of so many years, those sorts of memories remind me of how fortunate I am to have grown up in such a diverse, and vibrant community, and how formative that place really was.

Today, If a youngster were to ask what it was like when I was growing up, I would show him by … (1) taking away his cell phone, (2) shutting off the Internet, (3) giving him a popsicle, and (4) telling him to go play outside until the street lights came on.  This was life in my little village, as my pals and I filled our days roaming far and wide on our refurbished Schwinn bikes.  And if Mom was looking for me, there was no such thing as texting … she would holler my name from the back porch.  Special Note: if she called me by my first, middle, and last name, I knew I was in trouble!

But that was then … this is now.   So, as a card-carrying octogenarian, it is time to put aside those fond recollections and start earning my  “crusty old codger” merit badges by:

1. Telling kids to get off my lawn
2. Scowling at my neighbor
3. Writing a scathing letter
4. Disinheriting somebody
5. Going for a long slow drive in the passing lane while keeping my turn signal on the whole time

Just kidding, of course … I know how fortunate I am to have been around this long, in relatively good health, and to be in the midst of so many people who I love dearly, and who love me in return.  I am especially grateful for my wife, Bonnie, and for her having chosen me to be her life partner almost sixty years ago (after “going steady” in high school). 

During the pandemic, she and I broke the monotony of home confinement with a hobby called Geocaching.  This pastime got us out in the fresh air, while giving us the chance to visit places we might otherwise have missed.  In one case, as we walked through a small rural cemetery reading the touching words on the grave markers, we came upon a plot where a husband and wife were interred side by side.  The inscription on their tombstone included a beautiful and prescient message that, for me, captures the essence of life into my eighties and beyond:

To Be Continued