Don’t ever let it be said that elementary education is not important! I remember precious little about fifth grade: my teacher, my classroom, many of my classmates, and the curriculum have faded into the cobwebs. But not my 5th-grade play!

When I was 11, almost 67 years ago, I played Ulysses. Leslie Lenny played Circe. (If any of you readers from that era know her whereabouts, say hi for me.) My lines mostly came from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem, “Ulysses.”

Come, my friends. 
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world. 
Push off, and sitting well in order smite 
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 
Of all the western stars, until I die. 
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; 
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. 
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’ 
We are not now that strength which in old days 
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,— 
One equal temper of heroic hearts, 
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

I remember the challenge of memorizing those 19th-Century lines. At the time, I had no real clue what any of that stuff meant. But those lines have never left me. I can still recite them.

I have had a fascination with the Mediterranean for decades, perhaps triggered by that experience.

Finally, this trip has brought Tennyson’s lines to life. Here we are: two codgers approaching 80 with our fair share of infirmities. But despite the obstacles, we are pushing our limits, exploring new worlds while not having any certainty about what the future will hold.

Come, my friends. 
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world. 
Push off, and sitting well in order smite 
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 
Of all the western stars, until I die. 

We may be getting old, but it is not too late to explore new worlds together … from now until we simply cannot do it any more.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; 
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Maybe we will get caught in a mighty Mediterranean tempest. Or maybe we will find places of joy and beauty that we have dreamed of but never knew.

Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’ 
We are not now that strength which in old days 
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,— 
One equal temper of heroic hearts, 
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 

OK. We ain’t what we used to be, but we ain’t dead yet, by God. We’ve still got a lot of living to do … and the will to do it …

The unyielding will to do it … to keep living and discovering new universes …

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

I am sorry I cannot write stuff like that, but at least I can be moved by it … and hold onto it — for dear life — for 67 years!