“Life is like a roll
of toilet paper.
The closer you get
to the end,
the faster it goes.”
Andy Rooney

When I graduated from high school in 1972, my entire adult life was ahead of me. I had no idea, at that time, that things would turn out as they have. I wasn’t a goal-setter. I wasn’t working on a timeline. I was literally taking life one day at a time. Much to my surprise, a number of incredible opportunities were presented to me.

These were not opportunities for which I had planned or dreamed. They were out-of-the-blue, unexpected, and undeserved opportunities which required only one thing from me — to respond “Yes!” In doing so, my life has unfolded in ways far beyond anything I could have imagined or desired.

A group of my S.I. classmates and I were sitting in the Carlin Commons on campus enjoying lunch one day when we began reflecting on the future. Just four years earlier, the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey had been released. 2001 was such a futuristic number. I remember talking about the fact that we would be 47 years old in 2001. That was so far in the future, it was difficult to imagine.

It’s now been 54 years since my classmates and I accepted our diplomas at Saint Ignatius Church, on the campus of the University of San Francisco. At that graduation ceremony, about a dozen members of the class of 1922 received their Golden Diplomas. As they walked toward the sanctuary to be recognized, I couldn’t help but notice how old they were. Some used walkers, while others relied on canes. These guys were old. Yeah, well four years ago, my S.I. classmates and I received our Golden Diplomas. Could we possibly be that old? Already?

The strangest part of all of this is that I don’t feel old. I don’t think old. I don’t act old, yet I’ll celebrate my 72nd birthday in June. 

That little quip by Andy Rooney quoted above is the absolute truth. It’s difficult for me to comprehend that I’ve been retired from teaching for more than ten years already. It’s startling to me that my oldest son will turn 40 in May. These little tidbits of information remind me that, even though I’m not old, I’m old enough — old enough to recognize and acknowledge that my days are numbered. How many do I have left in my life? I don’t know. And strangely, I don’t worry about this.

I am extraordinarily content with the life I’ve lived. I’ve had more amazing experiences in my lifetime than I could ever have expected. I’ve worked hard. I’ve accomplished things in my lifetime that I would never have thought possible back in 1972. And I remain open to new experiences in the future.

It’s just that it’s all happening… so fast.