Todays Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

It's Never Too Late

By Mildred Cohn

With a flick of a tassel, my lifelong dream was fulfilled. At the age

of

sixty-eight, I graduated from college - with honors.

It was a triumphant, yet bittersweet achievement. I'd had a loving,

happy

marriage, filled with travel, friends and children. Then my husband died.

I

had never done anything on my own. Ever.

I realized I could sit at home and cry over my loss, or I could do

something I had wanted to do all my life. I could go to college.

It was the scariest decision I've ever made.

Even then, making that decision was one thing. Actually doing it was

another. I was so nervous my first day of school. I was terrified. Could I

find my way around? Would I stick out like a sore thumb? Would the

professors

think I was a dilettante? Would I be able to do the work? What if everyone

was

smarter than I?

At the end of the first day, I was so tired.

But I was also elated. I knew I could do it. Although it was hard,

the

exhilaration of learning new things was worth it. My love of art led me to

major in art history. It was a joy to spend my days listening to experts.

One of my unexpected pleasures was being with the other students. The

age

difference wasn't a problem, although it was a shock at first having kids

call

me by my first name. They were delightful; we discussed our classes,

studied

and walked together. One young man even taught me how to use computers.

Best

of all: No one talked about cholesterol.

I also received a great deal of attention from many of my teachers

(most of

whom were young enough to be my children). I suppose they weren't used to

seeing a student get so excited about their lectures. As time went on, many

used me as a resource. In history class, no one else knew what living

through

the Depression was like. I did, and I was asked to talk about my

experiences.

Many of my acquaintances thought I was crazy. Sometimes I thought so,

too.

The papers, exams, the hours of research, the mad dashes to get across

campus in

time for the next class, the exhaustion. However, it didn't deter me from

fulfilling all the academic requirements, including physical education. I

was

determined to do whatever it took to get my diploma.

My daughters were very supportive. Talk about role reversals. We

planned

our visits around my school vacation schedule. They helped me with my

homework.

They commiserated when I talked about a difficult professor and told me to

stop

worrying so much about getting good grades. (They swore I was getting back

at

them for all the times they had called me in a panic when they were in

school.)

In addition to classroom study, I learned I could study abroad by

taking

school-sponsored tours during the summer. One trip took us through Eastern

Europe (before the fall of Communism); on another, we explored art in Italy.

I

had traveled a great deal with my husband, but never by myself. I was

apprehensive about going on the first trip alone. However, I met some

wonderful

people who took me under their wings. I had mastered another step in being

on

my own.

Little did I know that my college experience would provide knowledge

that

doesn't come from books. Looking back, I realize that going to school kept

me

young. I was never bored. I was exposed to new ideas and viewpoints. Most

important, I gained confidence, realizing I can accomplish things by myself.

The day before my husband died, he asked me if I would go back to

college.

He was telling me to go on with my life and fulfill a dream. On my

graduation

day four years later, I walked across the stage to accept my diploma. I

could

feel him giving me a standing ovation.