A bio strives to demonstrate accomplishments and qualifications for the task at hand. In this case I suppose my (gasp) seventy-one years alive are a plus for a blog about issues related to aging. The fact that I have reached the wise old age of seventy-one amazes me. In my head and heart I am, at the most, in my thirties. Forty maybe. Oh and I am also tall and thin, but that is a blog for another day.

Other assets? I have had the opportunity to know some of the best of the best in the fields of geriatrics and of dementia related illnesses; in the 1990’s I penned a weekly Op-Ed column for the Weston Forum, sometimes reflecting on issues of age; and I have written four books, three of which are a trilogy, a love story about a group of youngsters in their late sixties.

And here I am in a favorite family photo with sons, daughters-in-heart, five grandchildren, and husband Bob!


How old we feel can be at odds with what is reflected in the mirror. Our mirrored selves sometimes seem foreign, constraining. Our true selves dance uninhibited in the moonlight, secure in the knowledge that there are songs to be sung, tears to be shed, and love to be lavished no matter our age.