Fifteen years ago, on a warm spring evening in 2010, I delivered my first Kit Kat essay. Earlier that year, Ohio State football had won the Rose Bowl against the Oregon Ducks. I was very much into football. My essay was titled “The Fourth Quarter”. It elaborated my metaphorical view of life as consisting of four twenty-year quarters - “quarters” as in a football game. I saw the first quarter - years zero to twenty - as mostly just waking up - figuring out who we are. At the end of the first quarter, our forebrain is just finishing its development. The second quarter – years 20-40, we’re establishing ourselves – just getting underway in whatever area we have chosen to cast our lot. By the third quarter – years 40 – 60, we’re making our case. Many have settled into a field of choice and have hit our stride. The fourth quarter – years 60 to 80 – is where it all comes together. It’s where the game is won or lost. I defined “winning the game” as attaining what we really, really, really want out of life. By that I meant fulfilling our Core Calling, staying true to our true North, believing that our purpose has been realized. If we get to that point before the end of the game, we have won. For me, if I were only able to see one part of a game, it would be the fourth quarter. It is clearly the most exciting part of the game. Of course, the clock is a factor, but that’s part of what makes the game exciting. At the time I said “Of course, there’s always Overtime”, staving off the necessity of dealing with the end of the game.
When I delivered that essay, I was in the middle of my fourth quarter. I realize that, for younger generations, life is not such a straight line, and the metaphor may not work for all. But the main point was that just finding oneself in the Fourth Quarter need not be a frightening revelation - but, instead, a realization that it’s the best part of the game and encouragement to enjoy the ride. For me, it worked. It felt good to define for myself the stage of life in which I currently existed and understand the rules of the game. 
However, last spring, when I renewed my driver's license, I noticed that I had turned 83 - already 3 years into Overtime! That day, nothing fundamentally about me had changed from the day before. I was still the same person. However, realizing that I was in Overtime somehow changed the nature of the game. In football, the rules are different for Overtime than for regulation play. I decided that I need to update my rules for this new phase of the game, and this essay is the result of that process. It has been a journey.
Now, a classic Kit Kat essay might deal with the topic of the “endgame” throughout history, or perhaps how this phase of life is represented in the arts, or in poetry. However, the more I researched, I found no common themes. It seems a different experience for each person. On the one hand, the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas admonished us as follows:
“Do not go gentle into that good night;Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.” 
At the other end of the spectrum, John Keats, in his poem “Ode to Autumn”, states that the last phase of life is like . . . 
“A Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun,". . .  suggesting a quiet ripening at the closing of life - a natural, sweet ending. I have concluded that each of us is the author of our own story. Perhaps a better exercise would be to try to articulate my own approach to this fascinating and challenging time of life. So I have developed five rules, for myself, to help navigate Overtime.
Rule #1 -Mind the clock.
One of the most important differences in Overtime is the role of the clock. During regulation play, the clock determines the end of the game. As a player, you know exactly when the game will end and therefore how much time you have left. Whoever has the most points when the clock runs out wins the game. 
That is different in Overtime. The clock may not end the game. That may happen the first time points are scored; or by which team has the most points after a specified amount of time. If the game is still tied in post-season pro football, additional time may be added onto the clock until a winner emerges. The important point is that we never know how much time is left when we are in Overtime. To me, that makes time all the more precious - arguably the most important commodity we possess. Thus, the importance of decisions about how to spend time is even more key than earlier in the game. Like spending money, spending time is an investment using limited resources. The rule about “minding the clock” is a reminder to be thoughtful about how to spend time and continually evaluate one’s return on investment. 
A limited number of timeouts are allowed, which will stop the clock, allowing for changes of plan or regrouping. For me, these take the form of major vacations or shorter times of silent retreats or writing retreats. The number of timeouts is limited. Since we don’t know how much time is left in Overtime, it behooves us to make sure we take these timeouts and use them wisely.
For me, minding the clock has made me more stingy when it comes to spending time. I don’t automatically say “yes” when asked to volunteer for a task. I covet empty days with few or no time-sensitive commitments. I hope to get better at this as time goes on.
Rule #2 - Rethink my concept of “who I am”. 
My arrival in Overtime means I have transitioned from being essential - to just being relevant - to simply being. It follows that my curriculum vitae or resume’, is no longer relevant. No one wants to see it. It is like a quaint old photo album - full of memories meaningful to me, but of no interest to anyone else. I’m only keeping it on file in case it may be useful for my obituary. So who am I, now that I am stripped of my professional identity? Even though I still have plenty of roles (husband, father, grandfather, friend, mentor) the beginning of Overtime seems a good time to take a serious inventory of just who I am at this stage of life. 
When I first stepped in front of a full-length mirror to ponder that question, it wasn’t a particularly inspiring sight. The body reflected back at me has surely come a long way since its conception nine months before the spring of 1941 when I was born. This body has been in continuous existence all those decades, and although I am still, and have always been, Terry Davis, my body is continuously being replaced. Not a single molecule is the original equipment. Yet I continue to be me because the DNA which contains all my genetic information continues to replicate itself through each cycle of each cell of mine. Yet, my 83 year old body bears little resemblance to my 20 year old body. The process by which DNA copies itself is only so good. Like copying a picture: after a while, a copy of a copy of a copy begins to get a little grainy. I am incredibly grateful that, so far, most of my parts continue to function reasonably well, even though my warranties have long since expired.
So, what I see in the mirror is a work in a continuing process toward an unknown future. I’ve had 83 years of a past, and I currently am living in the present. I have a future ahead of me of unknown duration that will hold continuing change. I have had artificial intelligence work up a picture of me 10 years from now, and 20 years from now. It was a little frightening, but I could easily see it happening. I thought to ask it when I would start to drool, but thought better of it - I’d rather not know. For sure, I don’t want that to be a defining part of “who I am”.
Like my body, my mind is also in the process of evolving from a known past to the known present, to an unknown future. Unlike my body, I can’t see my mind. It sits in my brain, which only weighs about three pounds, and is hidden and protected in total darkness inside my skull. Right here. That three-pound, Jello-like blob is the location of most everything that I think of as “me” - all my memories, my successes, my failures, my personality, my fears, and punchlines to jokes - all of me. Most of us have witnessed the loss of self that occurs when brain function is degraded by various forms of dementia. It is in my brain that I experience my world. When I open my eyes, light and vision do not actually enter my skull, even though it may seem that way. Images hit the retinas of my eyes and are converted to energy that travels through nerves to my brain, causing me to experience vision. Each eye can actually only see in two dimensions. Close one eye right now and see the difference. Three-dimensional depth perception is entirely synthesized in my brain. It is not what I actually “see” with my eyes. It is an illusion. It correlates well with reality, since I long ago learned not to bump into walls or burn my fingers, because the real world has informed the accuracy of the illusion. However, sight can also be deceived, as in virtual reality, which can make us “see” a world that is not really there. 
For each of you, your own world resides within your own brain, and is a function of your own lives and experiences. Not surprisingly, our worlds are each different and unique to us. 
Like my body, my mind has been continually evolving - beginning when I woke up from my “baby coma” and started smiling in response to others, through childhood and adolescence, with all that education - formal and informal, and life experience - to where I am now. Also, like my body, I have no information about my brain’s future in this Overtime - only the past and present. It turns out that my brain, my mind, is an even more important part of “who I am" than my body. I could lose a limb or two and still be me; but loss of a major part of my brain would be very different.
Earlier, I identified the brain as the source of “most everything I think of as ‘me’”. What else is there besides body and mind? How about a “spirit” or a “soul"? Those concepts are meant to refer to my essence -my inner being - going beyond my physical and mental aspects; often seen as the core of who I am: where my deepest values, emotions, and sense of purpose reside. Unlike the body or mind, which are temporary and ever-changing, the soul is thought of as more enduring and timeless - representing the true self that connects with meaning, morality, and the broader human experience. This speaks to a whole other plane of existence which is, at this point, beyond my understanding. It reminds me of the fish in our outdoor fish pond: they recognize me and scurry all over the pond when they see me - anticipating food. So, they know I exist, but I am pretty sure they have no real understanding of who I am in the larger sense. I believe I have about as much understanding of “spirit” and “soul" as the fish do of me. I hold this and a few other topics in a category I call “mystery”, and we’ll have to leave it there for now. And I feel fine about that.
So, “who” have I decided I am three years into my Overtime? It turns out that the game is not over. I am still in the process of changing and evolving. I am a work in progress. I am new and different from who I was, and not yet “who” I am going to be. Since it is Overtime, I know this is the last period, but the good news is that, at least at this point, I am still largely the author of my own story; and for that I am extremely grateful. 
Rule #3 - Reimagine “winning the game”.
What does “winning the game” actually mean at this point? Once in Overtime, many of the previous sources of external validation are no longer available. Without the old milestone-based parameters of success, it is possible to feel somewhat adrift.
One potential remedy is to dive more deeply into what was previously a hobby and take it on with more time and dedication. For me, making music in various ways has always been a big part of my life. I decided to expand my repertoire by taking lessons in classical guitar. I tried for two years without success. I concluded that this was not the time in life to take on a new skill requiring rapid fine motor skills in the hands. However, I still play washtub bass in a band with my son. At least I can keep up with one string at a time.
It has become apparent to me that, in the later years, it is relationships that really define our existence. Of course, this has always been true, but as we lose our various business or professional identities, it becomes glaringly obvious. I believe that, as men, we have had less practice at this than our female counterparts. Over the years, I have been impressed with the observation that “men exchange information, while women build relationships”. I have observed this difference even more acutely in Overtime. So, I have strived to be more intentional about forming and nurturing relationships. I’m trying to invest my precious time more wisely in this area.
I learned some skills in this regard during my fourth quarter as a hospital administrator working on quality and safety. We had some outside consultants helping us work on culture change to improve interpersonal communication and teamwork. I was one of the trainers that the consultants trained to facilitate the process across the organization. A key concept was the importance of “Be Here Now” - showing up for your colleagues in a very present and meaningful way. One homework assignment we got was to go home and practice “Be Here Now” on our spouse or a significant other. So I did just that. I was totally attentive to my wife, Barb, as we prepared the meal - practiced my “active listenting” skills - feeding back to her every thought she uttered to me, making sure I maximized eye contact - I was totally “There and Then”. After about 10 minutes, Barb said to me “Why are you being so weird?” Apparently, I had some room for improvement in my general level of attentiveness to her. In the thirty years since then, I have tried to maintain a level somewhere between the full “Be Here Now” and my previous everyday non-attention. In a few months, we’ll celebrate our 60th anniversary, so it is a long-term project. 
So, as I reimagine “winning” in my own Overtime, I am paying much more attention to individual relationships and events that are part of those relationships than I am to any possessions or “stuff”-  or specific honors - or accolades - or other symbols of what I used to think of as “success”. 
Rule #4 - Start each day with gratitude.
This is a practice that I started long ago and have stuck with ever since. I have a meditative space in our home where I can take fifteen or twenty uninterrupted minutes to center myself ahead of the upcoming day. This was particularly important during my decades of being a surgeon, but I have continued it to this day. Most of the time is spent in gratitude. I acknowledge gratitude for being alive, conscious, basically healthy in body and mind; gratitude for Barb and our children being part of my life - and now their spouses and their children; gratitude for many friends from different parts of my life that enrich my experience. I recognize my gratitude for physical security - not having to worry about dealing with war, my house being bombed, or destroyed by an earthquake, or washed away, or consumed by wildfire. Finally, I think of those in my life who are not doing well, either physically or mentally, or both. I wish for them either some relief or at least a degree of solace and acceptance. 
A side effect of starting the day with gratitude is this: as I’ve gotten older, I don’t necessarily wake up instantly as bright eyed and bushy tailed as I used to - fired up and ready to go. But going through my gratitudes routinely lifts my spirits and reminds me of what is really important.
Final Rule - #5 - Keep moving.
My chiropractor used to say “Rest is rust; Motion is lotion." I think there is truth to that. Plenty of research exists to indicate that some degree of physical activity on a daily basis is essential, and even more so as we move further and further into Overtime. This is an area that will be quite different for each individual based on their own situation, and I am not really sure that it makes much difference what you do - just that you do something. For me, it is either an outdoor walk, weather permitting, or a workout on our treadmill in the basement. Even when I don’t feel like actually getting a workout started, I always feel better when it’s done. I have to remind myself that my favorite tense in the English language is future perfect, subjunctive - “this will be fun to have done”.
The same is true for mental health. It is important to exercise that little 3 pound organ up in my skull on a daily basis as well. I do some word puzzles daily, and continue to write and publish fiction in the short story genre. I also just finished my first re-entry into student life at The Ohio State University by taking an introductory course in Earth Sciences for the fall semester. It was totally fun, and I highly recommend it. The only thing I do not like is that, occasionally, students will hold the door open for me upon entering the lecture hall.
Of course, as in the regular game, it’s also important to avoid penalties.
In football, a penalty, “Delay of Game”, is called if the offense takes too long to start the next play. A flag is thrown on the field by the referee, and a penalty is assessed. I’m afraid there is a flag on my field for Delay of Game. One of the inevitable features for most of us in Overtime is the need to downsize. We love the house we live in. We intend to stay in it as long as possible. But we have a large amount of “stuff” stored in our basement. Boxes of old diplomas, certificates, slides, and photo albums sit in a crawl space visited only briefly over the holidays when we retrieve and re-store Christmas decorations. I know I should start getting rid of all that stuff. Yet, we just put it all back into the crawl space for another year. I’ll take the penalty this time and try again next year.
So there they are: my five rules for this “Golden Age” of Overtime:
1) Mind the clock: be stingy about “spending” my precious time.2) Rethink my concept of exactly who I am right now - It’s not all over; I’m still changing and growing.3) Reimagine what it means to “win the game”- It’s all about relationships.4) Start each day with Gratitude - it puts everything in perspective.5) Keep moving: I’ll feel better for it.
I will close with this final note: Even if I understand and follow all the rules, and avoid all penalties, the fact remains that Overtime is the end of the game. There is a certain finality to that, which no amount of sugar-coating can change. It is also true that, as time goes on, the amount of control we each have will tend to diminish. Further, each of us may be doing well ourselves, but the same may not be true of a loved one. Life will always be a combination of ups and downs, and that tendency may be amplified in Overtime. Putting it all together, how do I know if I am winning the game? I believe winners are those who are able to stay, as much as possible, in the present moment. They are able to find, embrace, and experience whatever joy and wonder are present right now, even maintaining a sense of humor, while allowing an unknowable and uncontrollable future to take care of itself. Religious, spiritual, or meditative practices may help some, and others may have their own way of handling this emotional ambivalence. However it can be achieved, those able to hold both joy and angst in the same breath, considering each day as a gift, have won the game. Whether that is actually an attainable goal one hundred percent of the time seems unlikely, but the more time we can spend in that balance, the better off we will be.
So, here we are, at 8:35PM on a Tuesday night, late in January 2025 - bellies full of good food and drink, among friends - each of us independent enough to be here and participate. Let us be grateful for all of that, and for this Kit Kat Club - however we decide to spell “Kat”. 
Golden Rules
