As a lad, I found talking to old men enjoyable. I was a member of a church that was almost all elderly people. Now I am a member of a church primarily comprised of senior citizens or members of the Golden Years Club. The difference is I am no longer a lad but a member in good standing of the Senior Section.

It is said that we old folks do not change. We are set in our ways. We no longer read the instructions. The familiar becomes precious. Surprises shock us. Change calcifies our resolve. Youth informs us of the new ways. The fresh as dew on the Lilly 50-somethings. We know they have not seen what we have. They have not heard what we heard. They have not felt what we felt.

The revelation is that the young tell us many things we have not experienced. Our youthful friends are multicultural and multiracial. They were born with a computer in their crib. They attend school daily fearing for their lives. They witness wars that last 20 years. They seek God but not in a hymnal. They have skill sets that are not for a 32-year career at one job.

Climate change is here. We oldsters know we will not live to see the worst of it. The generations behind us wonder where it will end.

Baby Boomers were taught to get a good job and a home car. Money is the answer. Riches erase dividing class lines. A vacation a year is the goal of the suburban dream…

We are on the train that is rapidly clickety-clack down the track. The Old Man watches with keen interest. He remembers when he was a boy. He recalls the mystery of the Old…