This is part one of a two-part poetic memoir on Living Old(er). Learning Lessons. Originally published on LinkedIn and updated with my current age.

I often joke that while I may be old(er) at seventy-seven, 
     it doesn’t mean I’m dead

No, I’m living, 
     living large

As the years accumulate on the ledger, 
     some folks despair
time is running out, 
     to make something happen 
in their lives 

the time spent in that despair 
     takes away from making 
what they want to happen
    happen

Not Me

I am seventy-seven and ecstatic to be alive

My entire life to date has been about happening,
     learning to live,
living to learn,
      and learning lessons

At seventy-seven,
     I now have the privilege 
of living in this moment
     and planning for tomorrow 

as a new day to live

All the while, I know 
     all those past years have provided 
important lessons and wisdom 

I am in my best of times
     Ever

I once believed I could stop getting old(er) 
     by denying the truth 
in front of my eyes 

and trying to make life stand still

I had this crazy idea 
     if I immersed my body 
and mind in dangerous living,

in the ecstasy of a moment 
     unconnected to the past,
present, 
     or future, 

I could hold back time

Lesson Learned: No One Can Stop Time 

Childhood

The first thirteen years of my life
     in the South Bronx
during the fifties and early sixties, 
     were uneventful

the greatest dangers I faced 
     a dog bite,
fracturing a wrist playing stickball, 
     getting my ass kicked by a kid 
          four inches smaller than me 

(and I was small), 

facing the wrath of nuns 
     on their best days 
at a Catholic school

Even with all that, I felt safe

Nothing prepared me for what came next

Buckle Up, Kids

I attended a Catholic seminary 
     in Middletown, New York, 
in the early sixties, 
     when I was thirteen

I should have been safe
     
I was living in the rural countryside, 
     far from the South Bronx 

with unobstructed views of the land 
     as far as my mind’s eye could see

Training Ground

For America’s future priests
     I felt safe 
until I wasn’t

The innocence of my youth 
     met the reality of the early sixties 
America

Being the only non-white student 
     was an invitation 
to live through 
     painful memories 

a Catholic seminary 
     and a Catholic Church 

where the priests 
     were supposed to protect me 
couldn’t or wouldn’t

All I have are reminders 
     in an all-white school, 
You are the only person of color, 

You are not as safe 
     as you are
or should be, 

even if it is a training ground 
     for Catholic priests

I was told
     to have faith, 
and with faith 

I could learn to live in a place 
     like the South Bronx 
of the sixties and seventies, 
     happily ever after, 

with a smile on my face

Lesson Learned: Yeah, That’s Not Real

The Late Sixties

As I grew older
     I dreamed of another life 
far from the South Bronx, 
     far from a rural countryside 
 with its clean air, 
     unobstructed land views, 
 and more stars than I thought existed

what I loved most 
     was the freedom 
that came with my imagination, 

where I could dream 
     the freedom I made for myself, 

I could live more of life 
      and learn to grow old(er)
in a more inspiring way 

Lesson Learned: Yeah, That’s Not Real

Dreams of Hope

A bright future, 
      and peaceful living 
were crushed in the panic of the sixties 

the world exploding around us, 
     we wanted to hold back time 
in abandoned buildings 
     with junkie-infested stairwells 
and puke-smelling apartments, 

where death hung like a shingle by the door, 
     welcoming the next casualty

I soon learned that making it out alive was the lesson

Lesson Learned: It Was Not Enough to Make It Out Alive

Phoenix House

The slogan was 
    no matter where I go, there I am, 

and no matter how far I go 
     or how far I run, 
I cannot hide from myself

I Dreamed

Of living as many dreams as possible 
     in a new, big city 
like Washington, D.C., 

where I found the excitement, 
     energy, and thrill 
of the seventies 
     and early eighties

There was fast-paced living 
     and every experience offered lessons 
far from those South Bronx projects

in the end, 
     opportunity turned into 
the recklessness of Sodom and Gomorrah

Lesson Learned: I Can Be My Own Best Friend or Worst Enemy

Hoping

There would be better days ahead, 
     when I would be much old(er) and wiser

I swore if got away, 
     everything would change

I will change, 

and then I remember 
     what they told me in Phoenix House 

wherever I go,
     there I am

All I could hope for was 
     to move somewhere else, 
where the first thirty-five years of my life 
     and the lessons learned 
could be spoken
     into the silence of my mind

Lesson Learned: Wherever I Go, There I Am

You Can Run

from the East Coast of the United States of America 
     to the West Coast of the United States of America
for another chance 
     to get it right or wrong, 

standing on the edge of America 
     on a cliff overlooking 
the vast Pacific Ocean, 

looking up at the sky 
     on a clear, brisk night 
the ocean breeze 
     and the stars above me, 
more stars than I ever imagined, 

overwhelmed me 
     and pointed me in a new direction 
toward an old(er) forty-two years 
     into the future at seventy-seven

With the lessons already learned, 
     I knew how far I had to go 

and how long it would take, 
     while wondering 
if I still had time to get there

Lesson learned: Time Just Is

Time

No matter where I go, there I am, 
     and no matter how far I go 
or how far I run, 

I cannot hide from time,

I’ll always be 
     with holes in my soul
a little old(er)

I could only dream 
     a little wiser.