I have gone gently into the good night of geezerhood. I’m not sure exactly when it happened. At some point, apparently while my attention was diverted, I went from being “The Kid” FN:1 to being “Acting PJ.” That’s like going to bed Warren Zevon and waking up the Werewolf of London.
It’s not like the age thing snuck up on me. Two years ago, my birthday breakfast was served under a banner my wife had hung in the kitchen: 59, Gateway to the Wild Embellishment Years .
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