As a boy, he began narrating a story about himself to himself, a story of pluck and success, and he acted on that premise until it came true. He understood that, whether we sail to a new continent or simply travel from one day to the next, we are always headed into the unknown. Charlie had learned to treat the unknown as a friend, until life

We “cannot be happy and strong,” he concludes, until we live “in the present, above time.”

Charlie was a man of action. He wrote in definitive commands. Think freely. That’s where he started, boldly. Practice patience. Smile often. Savor special moments.

Charlie went on. “I always say: This will pass.” Whatever the challenge, “you’ve got to work through it, and hold the line, and don’t fall apart. Stick in there. There’s no future in negativism.”

He understood that thriving through change begins with an eagerness for The New.

I never heard Charlie talk much about God. The nearest he came with me was to say lightheartedly that he went to church in old age because he was “cramming for the final.”

Our stories can be told in major or minor keys. We can dwell on defeat or on determination. We can stress setbacks or successes. Charlie insisted on the joyful version of his life, and I believe it made him a happier person.

Competence breeds confidence; it is an antidote to the feeling that change is a hostile force sweeping the world along helpless in its current.

Technology changes, but people don’t. The human touch will always matter. An earnest young person confidently making a case is as powerful today as a century ago. Maybe it is no longer possible to talk your way into an elite medical school. But you can still be your own best advocate. No one else can do it as well.