Finding youthful spirits on elder-filled cruise

I'm traveling the New England/eastern Canadian coast on the Queen Mary 2, a rather large ocean liner with lots of restaurants, bars, lounges, casinos and other places to spend money.

There are 2,570 of us on this ship.

I estimate 2,490 are over 65.

This is not a trip for middle-aged "kidlets." They would be trampled by the folks on walkers or smacked by those of us with canes.

I have concluded having an interesting limp or requiring special attention raises your status among this group. I have little status as a result.

Which brings up a rather delicate subject: What's it like to be surrounded by geriatrics bent on having a good time? (And bent they are, by the way. Bowed at the neck by the burden of age.)

Usually we travel with a mixed-age gang. There's something about all these older elders that I should find depressing. Too many oldsters whining about the state of today compared with the status of yesterday is the reason I've never felt comfortable considering a retirement home in a retirement community.

Elders demand services. They want more than their beds turned down each night. They want someone to carry their cafeteria tray from the food line to the table. They want cheap wine. They do not play slots over 25 cents and they insist on extra bread and butter.

That's the public image, right? As a group, ponderous, dull and pitiful.

But there is more to this experience than your prejudices about oldsters.

First, we've had lovely shore excursions; marveled at the fall colors; chowed down two lobsters (so far) and managed to spend very few dollars on local trinkets. I mean, when you get old who wants any more cocktail napkins or Christmas ornaments shaped like starfish?

I don't like feeling old. I rarely feel old. And these folks I'm traveling with are making sure I feel vibrant and vital — whether I buy those napkins or not.

Perhaps it is the British attitude on the ship — all proper and God-Save-the-Queen stuff. It rankles my Irish innards but also forces me to admire the stiff-upper-lip of age.

It can't be our tablemates. Two couples — father and mother traveling with son and daughter-in-law. Grandchildren were left home. Of course, grandchildren are 19 and 21 and in college. These folks are fun to chat with — looking forward to tomorrow at the same time they remember yesterday and enjoy today.

Which brings me to the point, of course.

Why do youngsters assume those over 65 have no future? We are all living 20 years longer than we anticipated, and staying vibrant and "in the now" is what keeps the elders going.

Hardly anyone I've talked with seems depressed about life. Life is here and now, which is OK, and there seems to be much left to enjoy today and great anticipation about tomorrow.

I'll grant you that insufferable song from "Annie" about "tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow... it's only a day away..." can set your teeth on edge.

But "tomorrow" also makes life upbeat — a future and a challenge to your imagination.

I'm enjoying the fall splendor the trip promised. I've had a grand time exploring the ship, largest of its type afloat, but I've also learned an important lesson.

I need more people my age, my mental age, in my life.

I need more "kids" under 50 and fewer grandmas over 75. And those ages are all in your mind, not on your passport.

The older I get the more I realize the future is healthier than the past.

Thank God enough others over 65 share my enthusiasm. The sun will come up tomorrow and it's only a day away.