I don’t realize how out of it I am after an operation until looking back a month later. There I was, the morning after the surgery. “Morning after” seems apt because it’s like a hangover, except without the really bad headache but with no prospect of
Aging
Courage Cells: A Story
Who would I be if I forgot the teacher who coaxed me past my math phobia, or the time my boss bailed me out and then reamed me out after I got a client into a disastrous investment, or the glowing loveliness of my wife Jane on our wedding day? Memory
Young at Heart
“The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young.” That’s the Lord Henry Wotton character speaking in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey. I think of my father who, as he approached ninety, insisted he felt no different
The Appointment: A Story
If I tell Tricia that blonde doesn't look good on her, she'll be annoyed. She'll think I'm harping on again about being old. Well, we're both getting old—are old. Why is it that helping friends always gets you into trouble? Not that Tricia's
Green-Wood
That Friday afternoon last month, a Green-Wood Cemetery employee named Katie escorted Laura and me as we toured options for our future remains. We walked from buildings to open areas with ponds and vistas, on to another building, and then to yet
A Coat of Varnish
Catchphrases separate the generations. That they do so seems arbitrary and unfortunate. Everything that causes friction between generations is unfortunate. As a boy in London, I’d ask my father, “What’s up?” and he’d reply acidly, “The sky.” If he