When I see old people waddling down the street in complacency, I feel almost like I should bow down to recognize the great things they've done, the experiences they've had, the life they've shared with the world. They are like plump vessels of knowledge just passing by like it's no big deal. Think of all the things they have lived through. They've all been like us--and they survived. It is reassuring to think that probably, because of how my life is now, even if I don't make it as a journalist, I will still probably grow old and get to putz around in all my knowledge of life.