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