
03/29/2025
Every March, I pause and take stock of the year I’ve just come through, where I am now, what might lie ahead and how I feel about all of it — the past, the present and the future.
This is my birthday month. I’m turning 69, which puts me on the cusp of the ominous 7-0.
Every year, when I write my birthday column, I get emails from readers telling me to buck up, that they’re 95 and still running marathons backwards and I’m a whiny pup. Why, I’m practically a teenager!
As I take stock this year, I feel a foreboding of apocalypse. Maybe my own apocalypse, or maybe this country’s, or maybe the world’s. Things are falling apart. The center cannot hold. You can choose to think of all this bad news as great news, in a counterintuitive way.