When growing up, I never had much interest in my Irish heritage. Only in middle years did information about ancestors stir me to learn about them and their country.
This partially explains why the Irish election at the end of May roused my fascination. I thirsted to know how it would turn out. After all, the nationwide vote would decide the rights of Irish gay and lesbian people to marry.
In the same week last month, I attended celebrations of the life and death of two friends. Some time later, I am still thinking back to their passing.
The first event was what members of the Jewish community call Shiva. By this time of life, I have attended several, never without deep feelings.
Already, several people have declared their candidacy for president. Contrary to what I would wish (and American history used to expect), they are running very early, almost two years before the election.
They will give us plenty to talk about.
The current pope of Rome is not given to ignoring important subjects. This makes it a surprise that he did not talk about old people as a group until only a few weeks ago.
Of course, Francis has been surrounded by cardinals (almost all older men) and other aged officials who work at the Vatican. And, don’t forget, he himself is 78, itself no paltry age.
Ah! Jamaica.
In mid-February my wife Susan and I spent ten days on this beautiful island. We did so, not to avoid the then piling snows and bitter winds of Greater Boston, but rather to accept a personal invitation.
“The White House Conference on Aging.” Probably most Americans have never heard of this event. Not even those who have hit their 60s and continued beyond.
But starting in 1961, and continuing in four successive decades, the federal government has brought elders to Washington, welcoming them and listening to their needs and concerns. The next one will take place this July.
Among the athletic events that I remember from my high school years, one stands out most vividly in memory. I have been moved to mention it more often than any other from those long-ago days.
It came during the springtime of my senior year. Nothing else, it seemed, would ever rival what I managed to bring off on this occasion.