On becoming sixty-eleven--bless the French!

Not too long ago a neighbor asked me, “Monsieur Simons, you have seventy years… when will you enter into retreat?” I think he wanted me to settle down and play cards with him more often.

One of the blessings of being in France, though, is that I am still in my sixties—so, I became sixty‐eleven on January 12, 2009. It’s a helluva’ way to count, but a great way to think. The Belgians and Swiss are already in their seventies… poor devils, how they speak French! 

Some weeks ago, I asked a financial advisor, what I could do at my age to preserve my small nest egg from the depredations of the current economic crisis. His response, “Keep on working!” Shortly after that he seems to have been replaced by someone who sounds like a teeny bopper on the phone… Nuff said.  

Anyway, I remember that my parents could be in love and smile during the Great Depression--the picture at the right is of me, "still in the oven." Despite the downturn, I am busier than I ever have been and deeply enjoying the people around me and in what I am doing. I keep trying to create some itsy-bitsy islands of peace in the world, as best I can, by helping people to laugh at themselves and with each other in loving acceptance of our differences—as my good friend Kate Berardo says, by replacing resentment with culturosity.