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“Things don’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.” This nugget of wisdom was mentioned in a New York Times business section, “Smarter Living” (June 10, 2019) in an article titled, "Don’t Pickle Things’ and Other Life Lessons.”     These words came at a propitious time as Margaret was striving to make her condo “perfect” to sell. She went over the top to scrub and vacuum, wax and wash, buff and puff. Was it perfect? No. way. Did it look beautiful and wonderful, several buyers and potential buyers thought so. Margaret’s real estate salesperson wisely said to her, “A place doesn’t...

I was living like a monk. My condo was going on the market, and it had to look like no one lived there.  Two days prior to the first showing, I puffed all pillows and made sure there wasn’t a speck of dust on the hardwood floors. No dirty dishes in the sink or dishwasher. I removed all landline phones, wastebaskets, shampoo and conditioner in the shower, extra rolls of toilet paper in the bathrooms, my electric toothbrush, hid all medications, tax records, jewelry, folders and papers and pared down to one computer on my desk. I put these items...

We live in a world where we are bombarded with help and information that can move freely around the world faster than a wagging tongue. Need to verify a fact? Google it. Want to find the one bra you love that’s no longer for sale at your favorite store? Look online. Struggling to put a bookcase together? Fix your T.V. or printer? Do this, says one website; try that, says another. YouTube offers videos for even more detailed explanations. Then consider the countless people we know who are willing to throw out their help and favors faster than Donald Trump...

We meet them on airplanes, trains, by sharing a counter at a coffee bar and maybe waiting in a long line at the grocery store or to buy a ticket to a movie or play. Or, sometimes, we meet when we’re a captive audience for an extremely long period at a surprising time—while waiting for our car to be fixed or being stuck with a sick family member in a hospital emergency room.  They look at us, we look at them and rather than continue with our heads buried in a book, magazine, Smartphone, iPad, newspaper or waiting for the...

It’s 2 a.m. Margaret, who has gotten up for the third time that night to go to the bathroom, drags her walker across the hardwood floor and crawls back into the king-sized bed that she shares with Barbara and her beau, Fixup. This is not a ménage à trois but an end-of-life arrangement. We spend our last days leaning against a row of pillows and tucked under a thick comforter. There’s a stack of all our books — our reading tastes are very different, a place for Margaret’s wine and chocolate, Fixup’s sleep-apnea machine and mask, which makes him look like...