I don't have anything profound to share as I get ready to turn 64-years-old in less than two weeks. I'm a member of the first class of baby-boomers born in 1946 right after the end of World War II when my dad came home from the South Pacific.
I'm now able to view life with some perspective. I remember lots and I've forgotten lots. I remember when having a television was a big deal and I remember when cars had more sheet metal than most armored vehicles in Iraq. I remember the Kennedy-Nixon television debate and I remember the shock of the Kennedy assiassination as I watched it in black and white on television.
I even remember when Michigan State University went to the Rose Bowl with a coach named Duffy Daugherty and was in the stands when they played Notre Dame to a controversial tie game.
My personal highlights would be filled with lots of jobs that I liked for the most part, a mom who led a purpose-driven life, twenty-four aunts and uncles on my mom's side who I always didn't appreciate fully at the time, a dad that left more questions than answers, a wife of almost 30 years who has been a God-given gift to me, my two kids who have added new layers of meaning to my life, my new grandson who I look forward to getting to know and much more.
What's next? What's left to do?
I'm not sure I have a profound answer. Life is lived daily and it's lived locally. That's where the important stuff happens, I feel. What does that mean? In the next few days, I hope to use this space to sort some of that out.
Do I still have a purpose for living? You bet. And I will as long as I'm breathing. I'm in the process of deciding what to leave on my plate and what to take off.