Dear Eric >> I founded a nonprofit organization that is about to close (for multiple reasons, one being that others are now doing this work). I’m no longer on the board of directors, just a volunteer. A few years ago, we got a very prestigious award for something that was my idea. Can I keep the actual award, or if not, what should we do with it? It’s a big heavy glass thing.

— Trophy Case

Dear Trophy Case >> Get yourself some packing peanuts and a cute little box and take that award home with you. This is presuming it’s not already in your home. If that’s the case, then do nothing except perhaps give it a light dusting every now and then with a microfiber cloth. And perhaps set it somewhere that it can be seen in the background of your Zoom calls.

This award is a reflection of the work you did, with others, and was given as a direct result of those efforts. Sometimes I think that awards are so heavy because we’re trying to mimic the emotional weight that they hold. An Oscar, for instance, is a little over eight pounds. It’s impractical to carry, which is exactly what makes it so gratifying to tote around.

Your organization may be going away, but the impact you’ve made will surely outlast the closing of the doors. Every time you look at the award, remember that. And, when you do, perhaps reach out to a coworker to remind them that the work you did together mattered so much that someone went to an award store and paid cold hard cash for a big heavy glass thing.

Dear Eric >> I’m a guy in my mid-60s, in relatively good health, but I’m fighting the whole getting older thing on a daily basis. I still want to hit the ball 250 yards every time and sexually knock it out of the park each time I get the chance (divorced and dating here). So, is this an OK “rage against the dying of the light” thing, or is this an older guy who refuses to accept aging gracefully and looks positively foolish to the rest of the world?

— Home Run

Dear Home Run >> It’s good to have goals. I don’t know that anyone, regardless of age, hits the ball 250 yards every time. That’s just not how intercourse or human bodies work. (And, dear readers, if you’re someone who believes you do knock it out of the park every time, don’t email me about it. Congratulations, and keep it to yourself.)

Sometimes the proverbial ball is going to get to 249. (We started with golf metaphors, so I’m going to stick to that sport.) Sometimes it’s going to get to 100 but everyone involved is going to have a great time on the green anyway. One of the things that is difficult about aging, but can be very rewarding in the long run, is seeing the changes in your body as an opportunity to get to know yourself anew. You’re not going to move through the world the way you did at 22, but also the 22-year-old you didn’t know the things you know. So, if you can set aside the goal of engaging with others like your younger self, I think you’ll find room to welcome in the experience you’ve accumulated in the past few decades and the ability to check in with your partner about what they want.

Send questions to R. Eric Thomas at eric@askingeric.com