“One minute you are 
young and cool, 
maybe even a little 
dangerous, and the 
next minute you are 
reading Amazon
reviews for birdseed.” 
Hal Urban

I’ve seen them many times. You’ve probably seen them, too. Three old men,… or, possibly, four or five… sitting in a booth at the Tennessee Grill on Taraval Street in San Francisco, or at a table in a local coffee or donut shop in the South Bay. They are there every day, or so it seems, at the same time. They drink their coffee, enjoy something to eat, and talk unhurriedly for quite a while. 

I never listen-in to their conversations, but author Shirley Hazzard, in her book The Transit of Venus, has an idea about what they might be discussing. She wrote, “At the other end of the room, the three old men discussed their infirmities; exchanging symptoms in undertones as boys might speak of lust.” She might be right.

As I get older, meetings with my male friends often happen in coffee shops and local restaurants. And yes, our conversations often touch on such topics as our aches and pains, medications we are taking, the results of our most recent blood work, or how difficult it is for us to do many of the simple things we could do so effortlessly when we were younger. 

Of course, our conversations are not totally depressing. We also reminisce about “the good old days” of our high school and college years, and we share stories and photos of our kids and grandchildren. Occasionally, someone will make an effort to discuss local and national politics. I do my best to avoid engaging in such conversations. We also talk about shared pastimes such as golf, books we’ve read, local high school athletics, and recent college or professional sporting events. 

It’s always nice when someone inserts a bit of humor into our discussions, whether it be a bit of friendly teasing, sharing a funny story, or telling a joke. Whatever the topic, I cherish the time I get to spend with my friends.

I received yet another reminder that I’m getting older last week. One of my elementary school classmates sent out a group text informing several of us that another one of our classmates has died. A memorial service will be held later in the month of May. There was a time when hearing about the passing of a former classmate was shocking. This is no longer the case. We’re all in our seventies now. In the past few years, such news has arrived more frequently. 

Because of all this, I am again drawn to the theme of gratitude. I am grateful for the friends I have who are still alive and well. I am grateful for my physical and mental health and that of the “kids” I grew up with in The City. I’m grateful for my own life, especially in light of the brush with death I experienced in June 1971, when a blood clot in my left ankle, had it not been detected, could have ended my life prematurely. 

Gratitude makes a difference,… especially when we express our gratefulness to those responsible for it. Every day provides another opportunity for us to let people know how much we appreciate them and what a positive difference they have made in our lives. It’s important to do this now, while we still have the chance to do so.