Old age is fascinating to observe in myself and in those around me. It is a privilege that was not extended to all of my friends and family. Although I wonder if those who died young or relatively young missed out on all that much. Those who live a long life have more opportunities for experiences, but most of us fritter much of that time away in uninteresting work or play. And in later years the time passes much more quickly. A year can seem to go by in the blink of an eye. So how much does an extra 20 years really matter if few of those days held wonders and revelations. Quality matters.

I try to make every day count, although I often fail. A trip to the grocery store can serve as a grim reminder to try. I am often faced with what I call “the walking wounded” there. Elderly folks who look like every step hurts like hell. So frail and struggling just to pick up a few groceries. I hope that most of them are considerably older than my 77 years, and that the odds are that I won’t face that stage of life for a while yet.

But my witness of their struggles serves as a reminder. Are there special moments I might yet want to live? Maybe a trip to a mountain or an ocean shore a half day away, somewhere I have never been? A book really worth the reading or maybe the writing, while I still have the brain cells to pull it off. Or getting in one more great conversation with someone who shares my enthusiasm for some grand speculation or a detailed examination of some new fact. We might talk about the latest photographs of deep space or some new revelation from DNA studies.

I feel fortunate that my own early memories of the elderly were mostly positive ones. I spent a good deal of time with elderly grandparents who were still active and enjoying life. My grandparents often let us join them on outings to their “hobby farm,” where they taught us how to harvest wild foods, mushrooms, berries and greens, and taught us other country skills. They were patient and kind teachers, and I remember how irrelevant their gray hair and wrinkled old skin seemed. I was mostly aware of the twinkle in their eyes and their continuing enthusiasm for life.

I feel sorry for those who never had such old folks in their lives. Grandparenting seems like a good reason to try and stick around into old age. I don’t have kids or grandkids, but I try to extend the experience to kids of friends, or nieces and nephews, at times. I think that my personal experience has made me more drawn to positive images of the elderly. The poet William Butler Yeats once wrote: “When you are old and grey and nodding by the fire” in a beautiful poem that goes on to describe a woman who even in her old age reminds him of her youthful self and how her calm repose in old age brings pleasant memories to mind.

However, being as old as I am now can also lead to misadventures and be the source of new opportunities for humiliations, large and small. There was the day a while back when an old friend and I decided to have a beer at Toby’s Tavern in Coupeville. Afterwards my foolish old friend pulled the car out into traffic, cutting off the local city patrolman, who proceeded to have him try and walk a straight line for him, after hearing what we had been up to. My poor old friend, a former prosecuting attorney, had a chance to be on the other side of law enforcement. But he came out of it OK, once the officer saw how he struggled just to walk on his recently replaced knee joints.

I would like to conclude this column with a reminder to seniors that this is probably your last chance to have a meaningful influence on the quality of life of your offspring, your children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Your vote in the election this fall will help decide if our nation chooses to seriously address global warming, reducing the risk of a world on fire, or whether we give women and girls bodily autonomy. It is your choice, your vote, for the future you wish to leave your children. Your vote in this election is probably more important for their future than your decision to leave them property or bank accounts.

Dr. Michael Seraphinoff is a Whidbey Island resident, a former professor at Skagit Valley College and academic consultant to the International Baccalaureate Organization.