It seems natural, at a certain age, to look back more than forward, to reflect on your life, to search for meaning among the mundane. So it is that I’m having second thoughts -- not necessarily good or bad -- but a retrospection that might yield insights derived from lifelong experience. At best, I seek something approaching wisdom, a word we often invoke as an antidote to the physical frailties of aging. The risk is that such reflection is little more than romanticized sentiment that glamourizes the ordinary. I hope, instead, for something more: New understanding about the family of my boyhood. Greater meaning about today’s journalism as it copes with profound change. New thoughts about the Jewishness I once rejected. Renewed pleasure in re-reading fiction that matters. And deep understanding of male friendship, including the death of an old friend. We can’t re-play our lives, as if editing an old movie. Perhaps we can benefit from an honest quest for second thoughts. Here’s mine.
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