Age is … whatever number it is

I’ve long pondered the implications of age, but especially turning 50, even months before it actually happened.

My primary insight remains the same — that I don’t know what 50 feels like because I don’t know what 50 is supposed to feel like — but to be honest, the whole thing is probably a fool’s errand, anyway.

After all, it’s mostly because we have a thing for ages divisible by 10, and to a lesser degree five, but when that first number is a five … now, we’re talking.

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Pieces for me

It’s not a “secret spot,” not even “my spot.”

Given that it’s a footbridge between a public parking lot and the town’s shopping district, I’m sure the town mothers and fathers would be very distressed if it was either of those things.

But what it is, is “a spot.”

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Maggie Rogers and the power of joy


Of course we were. How could we not? It was Friday, for starters, but as bonus, we were going to see Maggie Rogers in Boston that night.

But we adopted the mantra of impending “FUN!” to get past worrying about getting through the workday and the thought of our 50-something selves standing for a couple hours in a hot club with the better part of 3,000 people who could be our children.

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