A Sunday afternoon in December, and it’s grey, and it’s raining, and I’m afraid to begin, though I’ve been thinking for some months about doing this blog. I keep putting it off. I have my excuses. Some relate to the technicalities of blogging. Others concern readiness. Am I old enough to talk about Old? Do I really want to crawl into that niche, observe and report, write a blog about aging?
Well, I’m 67. I’m old enough. And I’m already in the niche. Looking around. Noticing.
Niche means nook or cranny, a place set into. A cavity. Or a specialized section of the population. It can also mean a suitable position, with implications of call or vocation. All seem true. So, I will begin.