JOHN: Nature ain’t half as cruel as we imagine. Sends our looks and faculties packing, true – but also our power to see and translate the change. My brain and hairline can fly off into the sunrise together, for all I care.
APRIL: But there must be advantages to aging. Wisdom, for instance?
JOHN: The old do know everything. They just can’t remember it.
APRIL: All one can hope for, I suppose, is to age gracefully.
JOHN: In time, you’ll find that aging disgracefully is much more fun. I still remember the day it struck me – that vice is nothing more than a virtue waiting to be discovered. Suddenly, I felt like Marco Polo.
APRIL: Here’s a role model.
JOHN: Life became the Swiss account into which I left my follies to ripen, as a source of quiet amusement in my golden years.
APRIL: Actually, it’s pronounced “no-to-ri-e-ty.” A few of us prefer to live honestly. No room for any skeletons in the closet.
JOHN: Oh, I don’t mind them. But if they unionize, I’m ruined.
APRIL: [Tittering.] I love you, Granddad.
*This was an outtake of my 2010 poetry/art book Plum Stuff, a sample of which can be viewed here.