My dad told great stories. It took very little to trigger a family memory, and he'd eagerly relate a tale from long ago regarding an aunt or a grandparent or himself.

As he told how afraid he had been when something bumped on the outhouse door one day when he was a child, Dad's face would light up and his eyes would sparkle. He'd draw the story out, adding details as he went along, almost as though he didn't want to reach the end. We heard how the bumping made his heart turn over and how he sat in the outhouse shaking.

"What could it be?" he'd ask with drama.

The bump turned out to be a dairy cow that finally butted her head hard enough to open the door and meet our dad nose to nose. His frightened yowl scared her away.

One day he started to tell a story about his grandmother. I watched his gnarled hands work expressively and observed the way he leaned forward in his chair as he talked. I'd heard the story multiple times. I listened, although not very patiently, when a thought struck me like thunder in a summer storm:

Old people live in the past because they don't like the present and they fear the future. Maybe the past wasn't the best, but they know what happened then, and it's a safe haven.

Perhaps the past provides a secure spot because many older people aren't especially happy with life right now, and they await a future that holds only mysteries and promotes anxiety. Why not retreat into the safety of days gone by?

As we age, our once-strong bodies begin to betray us. Why, we wonder, is it so difficult to get up from a chair after sitting for a long time? Why has our energy level dropped so many points? Why do our knees ache so often? Now that I'm 70, I don't like that part of the present and I'm willing to bet that few seniors do.

I'm definitely a tad fearful of the unknown future, as well. I don't want to be a burden to my spouse or my children or to consider the fact that I may need help in my home or perhaps even have to move to an assisted-living facility or eventually a skilled care center.

So what is a 21st-century senior to do? I'm not about to give up my past. I'm a storyteller just like my dad. I find joy in reliving some of my experiences and thinking about people who are no longer in my life. But I try to keep it to a minimum. I know that what occurs today is more important, so I do all I can to cultivate a good present, weaving in only a little of the past. I accept some of my limitations and work hard to change others. I pursue an active social life because I love being around people and I know it's good for me to have social stimulation.

There's not a whole lot of control with the future, but I hope I've planned for it financially, spiritually, and emotionally. I'll cross each bridge as it appears in the best way I can at the time. My family will support me, I'm sure, and together we can probably handle it pretty well. And if I can no longer be in charge, I'll try to accept help in whatever form it takes.

I believe it all comes down to having the right attitude. Preserve the past, enjoy the present, and meet the future one day at a time.