I remember when I thought people who were 35 years old were ancient.  Then I thought 40-somethings were dotards.  Now that I am 40-something, my perspective of “old” is not 50, or 60, or even 70.  “Old” to me is anything over the age of 80.  My grandmother, who has dementia, is old.  My great-grandmother lived into her 90s — that was old.  I will never forget the tale she told me about her daddy butchering hogs at the tree over yonder, when yonder was 85 years ago, and in her mind I was not her great-granddaughter but was instead … Continue reading Tomorrow might be too late