We visited our favorite aunt in Florida recently. She lives in a senior housing complex where they have their dinners together as part of their rent.  
Our aunt, who is now age 94, has lived there for three years and is totally with-it. We were not at all surprised to learn that she organizes the evening dinner gatherings for her groups of friends.
She has a list and knows exactly who will be sitting at her table on any given evening. She told us they have a rule: “NO organ recitals!”  
What this means is very clear—to have a pleasant evening, they refrain from sharing their various medical and bodily disorders.  
Her friends are mostly in their 90s and even over 100. One of her regular diners gets around in a wheelchair; several of them use walkers—including our aunt. A few are forgetful.  
I suspect that they all have a substantial list of chronic health issues. So, each one could offer a colorful recital of organ ailments.   
Our aunt is a bright and interesting woman. She loves theater and concerts. She goes to lectures and classes. She reads a lot–large-print books. She doesn’t play cards or bingo.  
My husband and I are at an age when our bodies inform us that we’re no longer young. Our knees are on borrowed time. Our hips are vulnerable. Our hearts, livers, kidneys…well, they are not what they used to be… If we are lucky to have long lives like our aunt, we’ll follow her rule: When we gather with our ancient friends, let’s talk about the movies or plays we’ve seen, the books we’ve read, the museums we’ve just visited, and all our projects that engage our hearts and minds. This is my plan—to be vital, like this favorite aunt, really alive as long as we’re alive…