She was  a pretty good golfer. We were hitting balls next to each other and she smiled at me a few times. “You have a nice, easy swing,” she said kindly. I interpreted that to mean “you hit like a girl.” As we talked about the game, I found out she had won the club’s member tournament for her age category. She’s 82. “I didn’t pick up the game until I was in my 60’s,” she beamed with pride. “Wow,” I replied. “there’s hope for me, then.” I’ve thought about that conversation a lot since that day. As I age, more and more dreams that I once had as a child seem to be further away from ever becoming reality. The question at hand, however, still haunts me from time to time, “is it ever too late to stop dreaming?” Before you cast your vote, think about this. While we…