Staring Down The Big 6-0
If someone had asked me on December 17, 1955 – the day this photo was taken- how old I was, unhesitatingly and with great enthusiasm, I would have held up 4 and a half fingers and shared that I turned 4 1/2 just three days ago. Now, some 55 years later, when the issue of age comes up I find myself a bit more tentative in my response as if not having to say it out loud will prevent it from happening. When people find out how old I am, they answer with the obligatory, “I would never have guessed that! You don’t look like you are going to be 60.” I have a theory about this. Telling people over 50 that they don’t look their age has become as rote as saying “I’m good,”...
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