“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or tinkling cymbal…And now stays faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”- American King… Read More ›
observations
Lessons from Groundhog Day
Sad to say that two days ago Punxsutawney Phil came out of his burrow, saw his shadow, and forecast six more weeks of winter. So it’s no surprise that the weather today is filled with what weather folks call a… Read More ›
Missing Work
It’s sixteen months since I retired and for the first time I’m feeling a little ache when I think about the job I held for 27 years. I wouldn’t actually like to suddenly be back at my former workplace so… Read More ›
Coming of Medicare Age
One of the signal events of my summer was the arrival of my Medicare card. It was easy to request, and arrived in a timely fashion, but the psychological impact was enormous. The card says “You’re a geezer.” Not literally,… Read More ›
To sleep, perchance to dream
We sixty somethings are reluctant to admit it but many of us don’t regularly share a bed with our partners. Some of us even sleep in separate rooms. Though there are certainly ghostly visitations, many partners have found that the quality of their… Read More ›
Small sins and misdemeanors
Peccadillos ahead! PECCADILLO: n pl -loes, -los a petty sin or trifling fault [from Spanish pecadillo, from pecado sin, from Latin peccātum, from peccāre to transgress] The word “peccadillo” was the answer on a Jeopardy question last night. I got… Read More ›
They are all gone away…
There are no good haunted houses around anymore; I’m thinking of old mansions, like Miss Havisham’s, with moldering curtains at the window, moth-eaten furniture, and old newspapers and pictures from another era strewn over the floors. There are, unfortunately,… Read More ›
Hic et Nunc (Here and Now)
Wherein the author disses Latin.
Poetry and the top of my head
I am very picky about poetry. Sentimental, forced rhyme annoys me. Abstruse poetry bores me. I’m too lazy to work hard to extract meaning. My poems of choice must surprise me; at least a line or two should provoke me to think,… Read More ›
Confessions of a book junkie
I buy books, I read books, I hoard books. I like their smell, their feel, their look and the promise of wisdom locked inside. I like new books, in particular, with hard, matte covers and book jackets with pictures of… Read More ›
Now we are Sixty 