Still smiling after giggling in a corner with a friend and overcome with nervous anticipation for all that life might have to offer, Patti grabs a paper plate and “happy graduation!” napkin and heads for the avocado colored crock pot, brimming with barbecued lil smokies. She hasn’t even removed the lid when she hears a small but surprisingly stern, reprimanding voice behind her.

“Save some for the adults!”

And this is how Patti first meets my grandmother Florence. The showdown takes place in the dining room of my parents house during my (and Patti’s) high school graduation party. We are newly 18 and high school graduates, so we think we ARE, in fact, adults; besides, she hasn’t started serving up her plate yet.

My grandmother had a preconceived notion that Patti would take more than her fair share. People of her generation typically felt that people of our generation were selfish and greedy, and were often correct in that assumption. This holds true as generations change hands because we remember how we were at each age. We have the benefit of hindsight.

At 18, “Save some for the adults” was an appalling expression. And I thought I knew everything at 18. At 45 I know enough to realize how little I know and I still feel the same about that expression and its delivery. But I now understand the concept. As I witness the aging process first hand – the aches and pains, the ups and downs (and how much harder it is to get up once you’re down), the fears – I have more and more respect for my elders and appreciate why we should save some for them – not only lil smokies but seats, honor, awe.

Like “pay it forward” we should “pay it up” by practicing random acts of kindness to those whose ages are a higher number than ours. Because someday (with any luck) those will be our numbers.

And if we’ve done it right, there will be lil smokies waiting when we get there.