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After many years of denying our boys the benefit of a dog, we caved. It’s been eleven years since we brought Baxter home, a dog that we were misguided into believing would top off at twenty-five pounds has since added an additional forty to his frame, not because of overfeeding, but because of natural growth. Apparently, his paws were a dead give-away to our vet at the first appointment, that Baxter easily would double his size. A lab and poodle mix, more poodle-like facial features, with a coat of knotted black hair except for a speckle of white hidden under his chin, he has been constantly mistaken for “ that-dog-like-the-Obamas-have” breed because of his stocky stature and full face. His eyes are deep set and can get lost behind his hair when I’m late with his grooming, but it’s part of his charm and mystique and partly because of not wanting him to look like a poodle. There was no doubt in my mind that the energy that our kids exerted in their efforts to persuade us, woul...

To think that living until the age of 100 is no longer a fantastical goal is quite astonishing. And to think that I am closer to that once fantastical age than I am to that once whimsical age of twenty is equally astonishing if not a bit daunting. Given that refection, then hell yes I want to live to see 100. But really, do I? What would that look like? What would I look like, and who would it benefit? As I sit in reflection, I vividly remember as a senior in college speculating what it would be like in the year 2000, the year of my 40th birthday. What will I have accomplished? Will I be married? With children? Will I be successful? What exactly did I envision myself doing? And more importantly, with whom will I be doing it with? Back then, that twenty-year span, from my senior year to my 40th birthday seemed elusive, too distant to ruminate. In fact, so much so that I made a pact with a male friend of mine that if neither of us were married by our 40th, we ...