I helped a patron last week whose assignment was to print out the front page of the New York Times from her date of birth. As I pulled the microfilm reel for her I noted she was born the same week I graduated high school.

I never think of age or birthdays or any of that maudlin stuff, but sometimes it hits you. I'd not been jolted like that since I first saw a Playboy centerfold younger than me--and that was a long time ago.

Today is the Liberry Holiday Party--and several of the Aunties are decked-out in red and green gear, with holiday pins and assorted jewelry. This perturbs me.

(image: Charging into Night by Robert Schwartz, courtesy ArtNet.com)