And never say you are too old. You do not say it now, perhaps; but by and by, when the hair grows gray and the eyes grow dim and the young despair comes to curse the old age, you will say: “It is too late for me.” Never too late! Never too old! How old are you—thirty, fifty, eighty? What is that in immortality? ~Lyman Abbott, “Out of the Past,” sermon preached in Appleton Chapel, Harvard College, Sunday evening, March 26, 1899

A Witty Answer

A short chit chat with a female resident of the building we live in.

Me: Your fully retired, right?

She: Yes. And you?

Me: Yes.

She: What did you do?

Me: Worked!

I thought that was a good answer. I mean, you work, and then when you hit age 62 or whatever, then you retire.

With Age Comes Wisdom

Four guys were all at a deer camp. They had two cabins, two men per cabin. After the first night, no one wanted to room with Bob because he snored so badly. They decided it wasn’t fair to make one of them stay with him the whole time, so they voted to take turns.  The next night, Joe slept with Bob and came dragging to breakfast the next morning with his hair a mess and his eyes all bloodshot.
They said,”Man, what happened to you?”
He said, “Bob snored so loudly, I just sat up and watched him all night.”
The next night it was Mike’s turn. In the morning, same thing, hair all standing up, eyes all bloodshot.
They said, “Man, what happened to you? You look awful!”
He said, “That Bob shakes the roof with his snoring. I watched him all night.”
Then it was Fred’s turn. Fred was a tanned older cowboy, a man’s man.  The next morning he came to breakfast bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
“Good morning!” he said.
They couldn’t believe it.  They said, “Man, what happened? How did you survive the snoring?”
He said, “Well, we got ready for bed. I patted Bob on the butt, tucked him into bed, and kissed him good night. Bob sat up and watched me all night.”
With age comes wisdom.