This past June I attended my daughter’s high school graduation. Observing the wrinkles, gray hair, and softening jawlines of the other parents, I concluded that most people weren’t aging well. A few mothers, hoping to escape these indignities, had been victims of aggressive plastic surgeons, but . . . . Continue Reading »
Why are old people so invisible in our “culture”? Continue Reading »
As I write these words, it is exactly one week before my seventieth birthday”“the days of our years,” according to the Psalmist; the day “the warranty runs out,” according to a friend of mine. Today is also the twenty-fourth anniversary of my father’s death, four months and ten days . . . . Continue Reading »
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