Evanston RoundTable, June 27, 2019

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. To be young in the 1960s was, as Wordsworth said about another crazy era, very heaven.

Also hell. We fought with our parents, were confused about rapidly changing mores, suffered through a murderous war, witnessed terrible assassinations and felt at times like social outcasts.

Full disclosure: I’m not quite the World’s Oldest Baby Boomer. I arrived at 8 a.m. on Dec. 31, 1945. The Baby Boom, according to most definitions, includes the cohort born from 1946 to 1964. So technically I’m 18 hours too old. But believe me, that is the generation I identify with!

We were definitely not the greatest generation—we didn’t defeat the Axis and save Western democracy—but our activism and population bulge heavily influenced culture, politics and commerce.

Perhaps we were the luckiest, growing up in the richest, freest and most secure nation in history. The dollar and employment were strong. I paid just $97 a quarter for college tuition, and saved enough money to travel halfway around the world during my junior year abroad.

There were also plenty of traumas. Ours was a generation shattered by assassinations—JFK, RFK, MLK and later John Lennon—and marked by campus protests and tens . . .

Evanston RoundTable, June 13, 2019

Taking the dog for a walk along the lake. What could be more mundane, what could be more magical?

The mundane comes with the calendar: a late May day, unremarkable except for a cool, light breeze and a warming sun, one of the first after our extended dreary spring. The magic comes with a fresh mindset: to take in every molecule and atom that sparkles and shimmers in the morning light. New perception brings new appreciation: relish how wonderful are the everyday details of life!

Start with the spectrum of sights: the infinite shades of green—from seafoam to shamrock and Kelly to forest—on grass, bushes and trees; the varied, speckled blues and grays glinting in the water; the pastel-splashed wildflowers peeping up from the cracks in the pathway cement; the twinkling sunlight sparkling off the waves lapping on the beach.

The dog—Juney—likes to stop at every vertical thing—tree, pole and bench—to give it a thorough sniffing over before adding his territorial salute. I indulge him because . . .

Evanston RoundTable, May 30, 2019 Not wishing to be the last American to enter the field, I hereby announce my candidacy for President of the

Evanston RoundTable, May 16, 2019 Is it a good thing not to know the moment you’re going to die? Of course, some people do: patients

Evanston RoundTable, May 2, 2019 While T.S. Eliot’s assertion that “April is the cruelest month” might be true in the Chicago area, May is quite

Evanston RoundTable, April 18, 2018 The arc of life is simple and inexorable: we are born, grow up, age and die. But what if we