Last week I hit the three-quarters-of-a-century-plus-one-year mark. Whew! Now what? What do I still want to learn or do or see?  Or should I just go sit in the corner and wait for the Grim Reaper’s visit?

My dear mother used to say, “Old age is not for sissies.” She was right. Many forces  combine to keep us oldsters off balance, off guard, yearning for sweet simplicity.

The narcissistic con man in the Oval Office is making America less great by the day. This country is no longer what I thought it was; yet millions of Trump supporters happily follow their (not my) leader wherever he takes them.

Sometimes I watch a commercial on television and don’t have the foggiest idea what is being advertised. And what are the odds of a phone call being from a real person, rather than a robot seeking bucks or votes or whatever?

The high tech world left me in the dust long ago, although I do manage to text and Facebook and get the GPS to work most of the time. My palms still get sweaty, though, when I have to change the time on my digital watch. And don’t ask me to program a new television set.

And then there’s the matter of declining health. I can no longer run because of issues related to my heart, my lungs and my knees. A trifecta! That said, I’m lucky on the health front, compared to many of my peers.

Such forces combine to prevent us oldsters from aging gracefully. As a result, we crave  still points in this turning world. Here are my still points, the things I believe to be true.

There is a higher spirit. Call it God or Allah or even kumquat, if you like. It’s there when one person truly sacrifices for another. It’s there when we lend a hand to those in need. It’s there when creating art in any form or music in any style. It’s there in the smile of a baby at her mother’s approach or a toddler after taking his first step. It’s there in a light snow or a strong wind or a magnificent sunset. We can feel this spirit if we take the time to let it in. I must do so more often.

There is life after death. It exists in the hearts and minds of those we touched somehow, those we left behind.

No man or woman or nation is an island. Try as we might to isolate ourselves by living in gated communities or building walls, we are all interconnected. Moreover, each one of us is basically insecure, just a comment or setback away from being deeply crushed.

Hope trumps fear.

Climate change is real. Denying that reality for political or religious reasons puts us all in jeopardy.

The truth will out. You can fool other people some of the time but you can’t fool yourself for long.

Ya gotta laugh. Laughter can reduce tensions and ease pain. It’s good for the heart and the soul.

Google is great. Okay, I admit it; I love this high-tech tool. You can type in a quote and get the author.  Or get reviews for a book or a play, a movie or a restaurant. You can learn about a person or a country or a moment in history. Yes, you have to be careful not to blindly believe everything you read, but on balance, Google is great.

Kale chips are not great. Let me explain. One time I was at a party where kale chips were being served. In an effort to be all New Agey and with it, I tried a handful. Big mistake. I ended up going to the bathroom to expel the foul green mush. When I related this story to Tina, she kindly reminded me that anyone whose favorite food as a boy was a Velveeta Cheese and grape jelly sandwich on white bread shouldn’t pretend to be a food critic. Fair point. I think the same conversation occurred after I gamely tried a tofu blueberry milkshake at the Common Ground Fair.

Kale chips and tofu milkshakes aside, I consider myself to be a pretty lucky man. A little older, perhaps, but happy to be hanging around on this side of the ground. I plan to stay in the game, still learning and seeing and doing, kumquat willing.

David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary or suggestions for future “Just a Little Old” columns. [email protected].