And Then I Was Old

And for that I’m thankful.

The three-year-old author (seated) in 1967, flanked by his dad (Richard, top left), his Aunts Blossom and Irene, his mom (Nettie, seated) and Uncle David.

At first, time seemed to pass slowly from the date of the above photo, as it tends to do when one is a child.

And then…

I was 13 and I celebrated being a teenager. And then I was a high school graduate. And then I entered college and I met my first girlfriend and my life became wonderful. And then my first girlfriend and I split and I became personally acquainted with heartbreak. And then I was a college graduate. And then I moved to California to pursue a writing career.

And then most of my closest relatives died, including Uncle David in the above photo, and I had to fly back to New York for far too many funerals.

And then I met my future wife at 36. And then I got married at 37.

And then my life became wonderful again.

And then my dad died.

And then my wife died and I was a widower at 59. And then I turned 60. And then… I realized my life was going by entirely too fast.

I asked myself, “Where did the time go?”

Just like my late dad used to when he was my age.

And, like him, I couldn’t answer the damn question.

And then I was old.