Some photographs resonate.This photo, hanging on a restaurant wall in an Albuquerque Olive Garden where I often go to dine, resonates. It is a black, white, and gray ode to old age.

These three old men have a history and are sitting on a bench watching life pass. Old men often have tapestried histories that are burnished and worn like rocks going through a rock shop tumbler. Their rough edges have been smoothed and now they lean on each other as they watch glorious young women flaunting their latest designer clothes, their trim bodies moving against skirts and blouses that can barely contain their curves.

These old men sit and their conversation moves from wars,to divorces,to children,to politics,to sex, to money.

In a black and white world that has buckets and bushels of gray, I am not yet looking for my bench.

Growing old is unavoidable but sitting on the right bench, in the right place, with the right people, is, in my mind, still a few years off.

Fooling ourselves, however, is not hard to do.


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