Today I am 60. In Japan men wear a red vest on this day (I will make do with a green shirt). Last night we kissed my fifties goodbye, and this morning I am contemplating geezerhood. As a child I thought of my grandfather as being ancient, yet he died at only 64. Last night my granddaughter reminded me that “you are only as old as you feel.” True, except that you are only as old as your body allows you to feel. Age is both body and soul.

We are in Nara, in the Mikasa roykan within the Nara Koen (Park). We are well above the valley that holds the city, surrounded by forest, deer, and silence. Given the tourist bustle of Kyoto, I welcome this peaceful interlude.

If you are my age you grew up with the bomb. As a child I would peer out the window of my Dad’s Chevrolet as we drove to my grandparent’s home in Paris (Texas) and wonder if any of the summer clouds billowing in the sky signaled an attack (Dad! That one looks like a mushroom!). In October 1962, at Landrum Junior High in Houston, we drilled daily during the Cuban Missile Crisis. The siren would howl, and we would drop under our desks and cover our heads in expectation of the big blast.