Regrets. We all have them.

These days of quarantine, I find myself being drawn more and more to British shows that star older people for some reason.

This one is called 'Edie.' Edie is an 80-something woman whose husband had dies and who rediscovers a long-forgotten goal she had as a much-younger woman - climbing a Scottish peak. Her adult daughter is frustrated by much of what happens in her life, so she sells the family flat and stashes her mom in a 'retirement home,' where she spends her time making flower arrangements and listening to a bad singer sing songs she hates, badly at that.

She lasts less than one week.

Then she finds that postcard with the peak. She calls her daughter, leaves a message, and takes the train to Scotland.

Of course, this is a movie about aging, a film about last chances and opportunities pondered and taken. The last chance to do something longed for, to visit a place dreamt of, to make that one final climb up a peak from long ago. For some reason, that is what attracts me. Well, that and British police dramas.

But as I sit here in my empty house with a full fridge, fancy knives, and high-quality pans, I do not think about food or eating. I tend to think of those things I never did.

Or at least things I imagine I never did.

There is probably some word for that, one kind of like reminiscing about things not done. [Can one truly 'reminisce,' which is defined as "to think about past experiences or events," about things not done, yet dreamt about?]

So. what "things" do I imagine I wanted to do and never did? As a Traveler, with a capital "T" and defined as one who has traveling blood in his veins, as opposed to one who travels (small "t") for work or a living -- like a truck driver -- I can look at a photo of someplace and want to see it in person. A lake in Scotland, a river in Thailand, a mountain in Nepal, a valley in Alaska. Bahá'í Houses of Worship on all continents and local Houses in various countries.

Much of it, of course, is romanticized, like the desire to fly an airplane without a radio across the country I had 40 or more years ago.

Long ago, I read a book by Richard Bach, the author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, called Biplane, written in 1966 that described his mostly-accurate flight much earlier in his life in a time when he could make such a flight in mostly uncontrolled airspace from North Carolina to California after he bought an old World War I trainer biplane. He bypassed airports with operating air traffic control towers, landed in farmers' fields to spend the night, dealt with storms and cold and rain and birds ... and unhappy farmers. He ran out of fuel just short of the runway at his destination, crashed, survived, and wrote a book about it. I do not know how much of it is true and how much is fiction and I do not care. I still have that well-worn book and read it from time to time.

The 80-something protagonist in this movie, Edie makes that one trip that she has wanted to make for her entire life. She braves the loss of an oar in a rowboat, a steep climb that her knees really do not want to make, loss of her protective tent...and she makes the last few steps to the top alone and unaided, to cast her glance over the far distance she has longed to see. And she plants her 'flag' at the top, a pebble she picked up along her journey.

As a 70-something, I ponder all those things. The trips not taken, sights not seen, flights not made. Pilgrimage not made. And I reminisce. Or whatever the word is for thinking about a dream not realized.

Longing, perhaps. Not regret.

Student debt: What does it actually do for and to you?

As I have shown before, Credit Karma gives me a monthly update on whether my finances are moving in the right direction - down - or the wrong directions, no change or increasing. Last month, the report was my student debt went down $13.00.

Yes, thirteen whole dollars.

I can assure you my monthly payment is a whole lot more than that. Actually, at this point in the scale, it is about $110.00 per month, which means that lending company is keeping almost $100 of my money and my student debt will go down very, very slowly.

Of course, I am not alone. Mandy, a 28-year old college grad living in New York City, chronicles her journey from almost overwhelming student debt to pay-off. She is under no misconceptions that merely being free of her student debt is the end of it. She also has some thoughts about a topic the current batch of Democratic presidential hopefuls have bandied about for some time...student debt forgiveness. While it sounds good on paper, it has sounded to me like fixing a broken brain after years of being a professional football player in the National Football League.

Will the after-action do anything about reducing or removing the initial problem? Here is what she wrote:

I'm all for debt forgiveness, but I don't think it alone will solve the problem. We need to attack the issue at its core: predatory private lenders with high interest rates, tuition hikes, and the lack of education an 18-year-old gets making such a huge financial decision. The system is broken and it's time we vote for lawmakers who are committed to fixing it in its totality.

To me, her phrase "predatory private lenders with high interest rates" is the key. Our government wants its people to fund college education by borrowing huge sums of "easy" money from for-profit organizations. Long ago, I had a student loan from the State of Alaska. The interest rate was 1% over the life of the loan until they sent me a very apologetic-sounding letter saying they would have to double the rate...to 2%.  My federal loans started at 5% and are now well above that, even though I continue to pay on them.

Another student, Jessica, had a similar experience:

For 10 years, we'd been just paying the minimum and not thinking about it much. In late 2015, we moved to a lower-cost-of-living city and started making a little more money, and decided it was a good time to reevaluate our finances — particularly as we had an infant son to think about. Also, the debt had been a thorn in the side of our marriage and we wanted to stop fighting about it and problem-solve.

When we checked the balance, it was still $71,000!!! The interest rate was so high, we'd barely made a dent. We decided to live like monks and put every extra cent toward the debt until it's done.


At $13 a month, I might never get out of this burdensome, $30,000 student debt. My predatory private lender, one of those approved by the US Department of Education to lend tax dollars to college students, will make a lot of money on my student debt and that of thousands of other students, current and past.

What's in a name? Who really cares? Well...me.

My favorite espresso drink is a 2-shot espresso with half-and-half. I prefer it with a couple pumps of coconut syrup, and was the only drink I had in Alaska; I always bought my coffee at a corner coffee stand, never, ever at that monster "S" corporation's very-few coffee stores in Anchorage. In fact, as I recall, back then, they only had one; their marketing department found no support, even though their home base, Seattle, is the closest "big city" to Alaska. Things might have changed, but they are still Corporate Coffee.

Alaskans drink a lot of coffee, and they like it done personally by an entrepreneur who rents a small space on the corner and whips up the delish all by him or herself, not by some well-trained corporate cog barista in a fancy, major bricks-and-mortar store.

But for the life of me, today I could not remember what it was called. So I made myself one, started sipping, and looked it up. I like knowing things. I like remembering things even more. So...

Café breve.

That is what it is called. Knowing its name does not change the cost of the drink I am sipping, but remembering the name? Priceless.

It was always there. Wasn't it?

The realization came to me tonight as I watched a 2010 Netflix movie starring Ewan McGregor, "The Ghost Writer," that is shot primarily at a seaside house.

I love the sea.

I spent many hours standing on the forward passenger observation deck of the Alaskan ship, SS Malaspina, on one of my many voyages on the Alaska Marine Highway System. The cold sea splashing against my face, the rolling of the ship in the waves - sometimes rather violent waves - and the faces of the other travelers inside, looking a me. Wondering what crazy person was sharing the boat with them. It reminded me of the few months I spent on a ship at sea in the Navy long ago.

I love the sea.

Why did the realization take so long?