It’s here. My birthday. The Big Seven-Five. I’m now officially old. But I don’t wear my trousers rolled. Read more.
When my big brother saw me without glasses for the first time in a half century, his reaction took me by surprise. Read more.
The last time I saw Robert Morse there were beads of sweat on his forehead. It was 1967 and he was working the crowd on the set of a local TV comedy show. Robert Morse was on. He was going for laughs and he was going for them with the intensity of a rocket launch. He was doing what mid-life folks do – he was striving.
When I was twenty, I didn’t want to be thirty. When I was forty, I considered fifty a disaster. And now that I’m sixty-seven I don’t want to even think about sixty-seven, let alone sixty-eight.