Today is our 57th Anniversary. Are my wife and I going to celebrate? Nah. It’s no big deal any more. After all these years, an anniversary just makes you wonder how in the hell this lasted so long.
In a month, I’ll be 84. My son, his wife and our two granddaughters will probably bring me a cheesecake, as if I needed that artery-clogging dessert. For you younger folks out there, it will not be too long before you begin to realize that the real significance of your birthday is that it brings you one day closer to meeting the grim reaper.
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