Dear diary, it’s May 25th, my “word for the day” all this day was “enthused.”  Interesting, because up popped those questions again that says more about the questioners than about me: “Why don’t you retire?” “When are you going to retire?” “You’ve been there how long?” “How old are you?” To the first two questions, diary, I always reply with “When it stops being fun and I start feeling old.”  True, in less than six months I’ll hit the grand ole age of 70 (I’m still convinced they made a mistake on my birth certificate) and am in my 44th year at VSU.  I suppose I could utter a denying “no way” or a depressing “yuk” or an upset “aaargh” or a sighing “where have the years gone” to those numbers, but, you know, diary, age is really a state of mind.  It must be because nobody believes me when I answer their last question, especially students.  I guess they think people my age should look and act like a frail, cantakerous, shriveled prune surviving on prune juice, bent over, and unsteadily hobbling with a cane or walker.

Well, diary,  I’m no prune.   I’m a healthy, razor sharp plum of a guy.   Getting older doesn’t mean your spirit is getting weaker!   No being put on the shelf or out to pasture for me.   No rocking chair on the porch in my future.  I’m still vertical and dancing.  The only walker I have are my two, 3-4 mile power walking legs. I’m enveloped in an aura of contentment and a zest for life.   Sure, my body isn’t what it used to be, but neither is my spirit.  My body is getting older and older, but my spirit, where it really counts is getting younger and younger, and my bliss is growing by leaps and bounds.  My synapses are wildly snapping.  When someone says I’m not acting my age, I answer with the adamant playground retort, “Am so!” See, I always say that while I may be getting older I’ll be damn if I’m going to let myself grow old.  I will not allow time to dictate my life. How can I?  I make my life is a dynamic state of “being” and “becoming.”  I work on the principle that every day is new during which I learn something new and become someone new.  Nothing is a “ho-hum,” “just another” drag.  Nothing is old hat for me, no merely passing time.

I wish I count the times someone has said to me, “Get serious.”  Well, hell, diary, I won’t.  And, I will.  “Serious fun” is the core of my teaching, of my life, is living joyfully to be songful, all the way through it.  Everything is beautiful, magical, mysterious, miraculous, adventurous, airy.   I’ve been able to keep my teaching fresh because I take it  and all that I do all in just in that way:  I keep my sense of humor; I keep my joy of living; I won’t let others hang  their hang-ups on me.  I will not slap labels on my lapels.  I’m still a sprite kid, an experienced one to be sure, but just a kid knowing the joys of play, fun, laughter, wonder, curiosity, imagination, and creativity in everything I do more than I have ever before.  Each is a new day, and I live it that way. I make use of each day to bring new experience into my life. I’m a gusher!  I keep my life fresh and invigorating, and am always open to new possibilities.  I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things. I still live by my “To Be A Teacher.”  I blow bubbles.  I play with rolly-pollies.  I make puns.  I am immersed in today’s uniqueness.  It’s all about having serious fun.  You see, as I have said over and over again, the opposite of fun is not work; it’s boredom.

I’m  thinking of this because some people just don’t get it.  That’s why they’re more stressed out than “stress hardy.”  They don’t understand that “newness,”  offers the most wondrous trips.  Playfulness, maybe even with a touch of silliness, of being carefree, is a healing balm.  It’s down right refreshing and energizing.  It’s the Fountain of Youth that Ponce de Leon was looking for.  Where your spirit dances, your mind and body will follow.  Maybe that’s why I chuckle when people tell me how good I look.  Of course, diary, it’s a hell of a lot better than having people saying “poor, wrinkled guy, he looks like he’s about to topple over.”  Maybe they enjoy how I look and act because if I am managing to stay young at heart, being and feeling energetic, they’ll be able to find a way, too.  Maybe its comforting to them to know that 70 isn’t the end. No, diary, age or longevity is not a reason to quit.  Domesticating routine, imprisoning boredom, stuck-in-a-rut disinterest, and atrophying unhappiness are.

No, diary, each and every day, I care and feed the child within me and keep young of heart.  And, because of the lessons of my near-fatal cerebral hemorrhage, if do nothing I cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live.  For fear of sounding trite and cliche-ish, I feel like an aged wine:  more satisfying, more refreshing, more valuable, more appreciated, and more intoxicating.  I know the ultimate sin is not to open the present that the present has presented me, for if I do nothing I cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live.  It is sad to think how many so invest in their tomorrows that they miss their todays.  So, I am consciously grateful for each day I have and live that gratitude, if for no other reason than having my Susan lying next to me when I go to sleep and when I wake up. I make sure I happily receive the gift of each day with joyous, open hands.  I don’t care how smoggy it may be outside, when I rise up, I see the sun with my heart’s eye, greet it with joy and lightness in my head knowing that every moment is my moment to shine. I let so much life in that there’s no room for resignation or disappointment or any other negative.  No, diary, I’m closed to ugly darkness and I let in the beautiful light, I let in the joy, and I let in the richness of life. I just refuse to miss out on the value of any moment. I live it for all that it can be.  And, boy, does that keep me young, a lot of times younger than my young students and younger colleagues!

Louis