In a Florida supermarket where they sold postage stamps a man in the checkout line requested some. Pulling the stamps from under her tray in the cash register, the clerk said, We only have love stamps. Unexpectedly, in a voice loud enough to startle those around him the man barked. I hate love stamps! He paid his bill and left angrily.

A pastor friend has been gently suggesting I use this column to write about suicide. He points to the Canadian priest author and columnist, Father Ron Rolheiser, an Oblate of Mary Immaculate considers suicide important enough to write about every year.

NEW I’m a volunteer.  Even before I retired I volunteered for United Way, the Center for Peace and Justice and the Chautauqua County Rural Ministry, but retirement has given me time and leisure to do more. I’ve moved on from United Way and Rural Ministry but I’m still active with the Dunkirk Fredonia CPJ, and volunteer for the Red Cross and the Center for Resolution and Justice.  I’m sure some people dismiss me as a do-gooder. I hope I am.  I’d rather do good than do nothing -- or do harm.

Steven Levine, author of “A Year To Live,” suggests that we take a day off from living from time to time. He advises us to use our imagination to disconnect ourselves from life and pretend that we have died. We see the world as though it were the day after our funeral. We walk through a world in which we no longer are physically present. Weird? Maybe, but anyone who has seen “It’s a Wonderful Life” or went to a performance of Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” can get the idea.

I picked up the book at the bookstore the other day and was astonished at the title “What Are Old People For?” What kind of title is that, I thought to myself. How come they don’t write a book about “What Young People are For?” or What Are Irish Americans For?” Why should old folks be singled out? Aren’t we all in this journey of life together? Are seniors the only group of people who have to justify their existence?

Graduations and retirements are frequent this time of year. Besides the obvious transitions of entering or leaving gainful employment, what do college commencements and retirement parties have in common?

Its the season. Signs beckon as we drive by. They clutter lawns, sidewalks, porches and driveways. In the winter they are more rare. I speak of course of garage sales, barn sales, attic and yard sales, those informal marketplaces of used household stuff.

NEW About seven years ago, a friend introduced me at a church service as “an elder.”  The introduction was a compliment.  It pointed to my presumed wisdom not my age, but it also jarred me.  I was in my late sixties at the time and had never thought of myself that way.  Today at seventy-five, I’d no longer be surprised.  There’s no doubt now.  I’m an elder and think often about this stage in my life.