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The nihilist in me, or The confessions of a dirty mind

Dear Irene, All right. You’re right. I admit to my potty mouth. It comes naturally. Growing up where I did, going to Catholic schools, and being a drunk for most of my first 30 years . . . well, it affected me. I could say that these things gave me…

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The weight of time, or You don’t get any older than dead

Dear Alex, Today I turn 52. I have friends who have died at this age, and some younger. I think about 52 and what it means in terms of age and time. I’m fortunate. The Anasazi lived until their teeth wore out around the age of 35. At the beginning…

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