When I turned 39, I received my first letter from AARP.  Looking down at the envelope, I was stunned.  Me?  Middle Aged?  There’d been a mistake. If my response seemed melodramatic, then, imagine how I reacted when a crematorium invited me to lunch, recently. My heart stopped. �

On the way to the gym at my retirement center, there’s a table with a small basket resting on it.  Sometimes the basket is empty.  Sometimes it isn’t  When it isn’t, it’s full of condolence cards addressed to the family of a resident who has died.  As yet I know so few peo

When I wrote the latest version of my will, my attorney noted I’d made no provisions for my ashes.  Nonplussed, I asked, “Doesn’t the funeral parlor dump them?” As the deceased-to-be, my lawyer’s question struck me as impertinent.  I don’t pay taxes once I’m dead.  Wh

I met a friend for coffee at a neighborhood shop last week. We hadn’t gotten together for some time and I’d missed our chats. The minute she walked through the door I could see the malaise that hung about her. Outwardly, she looked well. Her hair was recently trimmed and she was s

Last month, my mother celebrated her 97th birthday. As a special treat, an acquaintance, the proprietor of a restaurant, offered to prepare a special meal in honor of the event. I thought it would be a wonderful treat, but as they say, no good deed goes unpunished. When the proprietor