When my Father was 90 years old he participated in a ten mile walk to raise money for a food kitchen. He was very short-legged, so he had to take a lot more steps than most people to walk one mile. But, he was determined to do it. As the walk wore on, he was left further and further behind the rest of the walkers and would have finished dead last, except for a little six year old girl. Ten miles is as long a walk for a six year old as it is for an 80 year old, so after the first few miles, they locked step with each other, and finished in a tie. By the time they reached the end of the walk, most of the walkers, their families and watchers had left for home. But, that wasn't important. They were both proud that they made it. No matter how long it took.

Now, on May 27th, a dear friend of mine will celebrate his 80th birthday. There will be a lot of singing and rejoicing, when the bass singer in my group, Joe Evans, hits that magic number. Six months ago, Joe couldn't stand up straight, and could barely walk across the room. Last weekend, he lugged his treadmill up from the basement and is building the strength in his leg. I don't think that Joe will be able to walk ten miles on his birthday, but it's a blessing that he can walk at all.

For the last few years, my definition of old has been "ten years older than me," and it will always be my definition. There are a lot of high-mileage models here in Mudcat, so it's encouraging to remember that some people at 80 can still walk circles around us.

It ain't over, 'till it's over.

Jerry