My father is ten years older than my mother. In the fall of 2019, that made him 78 to our mother’s 68. To this day he is the picture of health for a septuagenarian—lean and long yet sturdy and vigorous. He’s still the consummate handyman he’s always been around the house, constantly finding new projects and things that need repairing on our one-acre suburban lot. His mind is sharp, with a healthy appetite for books and newspapers. He’s still, somehow, the most skilled driver in the family, and is going on 40 years as an avid mountain biker. Nobody knows the mountain bike trails of Phoenix’s 16,000-acre South Mountain Park better than he does. A retired Vietnam veteran and private pilot, he operates with all the seriousness and routine one would expect of a soldier, but not without a persistent, wry sense of humor to keep you on your toes.
Chapter 1: Teaspoons
Chapter 1: Teaspoons
Chapter 1: Teaspoons
My father is ten years older than my mother. In the fall of 2019, that made him 78 to our mother’s 68. To this day he is the picture of health for a septuagenarian—lean and long yet sturdy and vigorous. He’s still the consummate handyman he’s always been around the house, constantly finding new projects and things that need repairing on our one-acre suburban lot. His mind is sharp, with a healthy appetite for books and newspapers. He’s still, somehow, the most skilled driver in the family, and is going on 40 years as an avid mountain biker. Nobody knows the mountain bike trails of Phoenix’s 16,000-acre South Mountain Park better than he does. A retired Vietnam veteran and private pilot, he operates with all the seriousness and routine one would expect of a soldier, but not without a persistent, wry sense of humor to keep you on your toes.