I was watching the show "Roadies" last night, and had kind of an initially dispiriting epiphany. I realized that I'm 51 years old, and in my last semester of college. I had a heart attack a few years ago. I smoke, drink way too much Diet Coke, I'm fat and out of shape, and, according to my doctor (and popular opinion), probably going to die somewhere around next Tuesday.

Like most people, I've spent most of my life working, just to pay the bills. Electric bills, gas bills, water and cable bills. House, car and insurance payments. I've made a lot of bad decisions, and a few good ones. I've treated some people shamefully and let a lot of people down, but I've done a little good too. In my youth, I loved wildly and carelessly. And I've learned to love deeply and carefully, but no less wildly. I've married badly and I've married better than I deserve.

I've seen stars without number in the skies over the Indian Ocean, and I've seen the sun come up over the Indiana hills. I've heard my grand-babies laughing, and Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, the Atlantic ocean crashing against the Cliffs of Moher, and rolling thunder drowning out the sounds of all creation. I've relished the feel of a lover's caress, and found comfort in the hug of a friend. I've smelled the scent of wildflowers on the breeze, and the wonderful clean baby smell of my own children. I've tasted good Scotch whisky on a train through the Scottish highlands and Doner kebabs from a street vendor in Turkey.

I've also seen McDonald's trash and beer cans all along the roads of this country and raw sewage in the streets of others. I've heard hungry babies crying on Pine Ridge Indian Reservation and pundits and ordinary folks venting streams of bile and hate. I've smelled jet fuel burning as bombers launched to bomb cities and the chemical stench of nursing homes where forgotten old people go to die. I've felt the nauseating pain of broken bones and the emptiness of a broken heart, and I've tasted the bitterness of failure, the sour taste of disappointment.

I've seen the face of God in the stars, and in the smile of a hungry child eating a hot dog. I've doubted His existence a number of times. I've wondered what he was thinking, how could he let such terrible things happen even more. I've felt a fool for believing in Him, and even more foolish for ever doubting Him.

I'm not complaining; I've had a pretty good life. But as I watched that show, it occurred to me that there are still way too many great books that I haven't read yet, too many movies I haven't seen, too much music I haven't heard. There are too many places I haven't been, or haven't been enough. I've got too many of my own stories to tell, too many of my own thoughts to share and put to the test. In short, too much life to live in the 30 or 40 years I've probably got left (I was joking about that Tuesday thing. My doctor's not, but I am.)

It occurs to me that the meaning of life is not to make a living, but to LIVE (and yes, I realize that this is hardly an original thought, thanks for noticing). Wealth and comfort are placebos that we chase in order to mask the fact that we're not living. To live, I think, means to live for others, not to make a living from others; to learn from them, and to share our lives with them. To help those who need it, regardless of whether they "deserve" it. To right the wrongs that have been done in the pursuit of money and power, to lift up those who are down.

To take in, and treasure, all that this world has to offer, and then to pass that treasure along to others. To love, to laugh, to make peace.

So yeah, I'm old (compared to most students), I'm fat, out of shape and have bad habits. I think that perhaps the most important thing I've learned from going back to school is that I'm still alive and not just "alive", but ALIVE!

I've got great things to ponder and (hopefully) great things to share. I've got people to love, friends to laugh with, enemies to forgive and be forgiven by, folks to help, and others to help me along my way.

Life is good and it is to be shared, not hoarded, and I've still got a lot of it to look forward to.

It's never too late to start.

Also, the headline and sub-headline for this article are a quote from a Bill Murray movie, I think it was "Stripes," directed by Ivan Reitman and written by Harold Ramis, Dan Goldberg and Len Bloom. Just trying to avoid plagiarism.