As a one-time public school teacher and university prof of the language arts, I thought my primary responsibility was not merely to teach my students to write, read, and speak; it was to give them hope. When teaching seventh graders back in the day, I wasn’t preparing them for eighth grade. I was preparing them for life.
Here’s one of the ten best things Hannah and I have ever done. In the dead of winter of 1982, we moved with our two daughters (Robyn four months and Molly a little over two) sight unseen to New England without a job, without a place to live, but with the belief that a small town in New England was where we wanted to be a family. We landed in York, Maine at the end of the rainbow.
Do it now. My good health is not guaranteed. At some point, Hannah and I won’t be able to travel or pickle with friends. Ergo, I dig every hike on the trail, every third shot drop on the pickleball court, wintering in California, and being a part of our kids’ and grandsons’ lives.
Most mornings, I stretch for thirty minutes, meditate for fifteen more, and end with fifteen minutes of journaling. I’ve grown to love all three.
I recommend stem cells for aching knees. Nineteen months ago, I had injections in both knees. Now my knees don’t creak, and I move around the pickleball court like a sixty-year-old Roger Federer-wannabe.