He walks by my house, slow and a bit unsteady, using his cane but out walking nonetheless. I'm only five foot one; Ed is shorter than me and thinner, grey hair sticks out from under his farmer's style hat. He smiles as he tells me that when he joined the army right after high school the sergeant couldn't believe he only weighed one hundred twelve pounds. He is a small man. He is an amazing eighty-five year old man.

I knew he had a couple of heart attacks and a stroke a few years back. Ed didn't let those stop him. Three days after the stroke his wife spotted him shuffling down the hospital corridor. He didn't let it keep him down.

Two weeks ago I learned Ed had had another stroke. This morning I talked to him, stopping him as he drew abreast of my house on his morning walk. We talked about the stroke. We talked about his life. He has lived on the same street in our town almost his entire life. He said he's happy with the life he's lived; proud of things he's accomplished.

He told me something that I think is a big factor in Ed's long life and his recovery from his strokes.

"I see nothing but good coming our way. I try to find the best in everything."

I think I'll chisel that into the walls of my house or paint it as a mural in every room.

Ed was a farm kid during the depression. He was in the army in World War II. He knows hard times. Ed works hard and doesn't quit.

"I see nothing but good coming out way. I try to find the best in everything."

I'm going to start thinking like Ed does.