The young long for the involvement of the old.
I find it both rewarding yet challenging to engage the spirited gait of present-day millenials. The wonderful energy they exude seems boundless as it comes across like staccato notes in a premiered opera.
The strength of maturity harks from prolonged exposure to life's true propensities. As I observe the transitions, I notice the predictable recycling of themes and schemes.
What my grandfather fought were matters that my Dad wrestled with and are currently the unremitting darts that I seek to dodge.
I recently got in the mix of young hoopers and their brand of basketball was tuned-in to present metronomes. Of course, the tempo threw me off but as I switched to the inner hum of my 70's game, I found a place of quiet rest.
The guys needed me but I needed them more.
Alas, we have been granted a most wonderful package: young and old grapes squeezed in a bag to flourish and bleed together for some win and a few loss.
I am thankful for the community of age.
