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Every year, I pack up the family and the dogs and head to Florida to visit my grandmother. She's a special old bird to me because when I was a kid, she took me and my sister into her home after my parents died in an auto accident. This year was no different except for what happened near the end of our visit. Gran's in her seventies now, and on the day before we were to begin our journey home, she fell and twisted her leg very badly. The physician told me she was lucky that she didn't break her hip or leg. He also said he had two options: he could admit her to the hospital and she would likely remain there for several weeks until she healed completely, or, she could rest in the comfort of her own home, provided there was someone there to take care of her. The wife and I talked it over and decided I could stay for a few weeks, and Gran could come home. Two days later, I waved as my wife and children drove west to go home. For the next two weeks, it would be me and Gran in her tiny, beachfront condo. I actually liked where my Gran lived: it was a retirement center for other elderly men and women, some married, some not. I had originally believed the residents were all in their eighties and nineties, but I was actually wrong. I found out from the condo manager that the age range ran from sixty-two to almost one hundred. And I have to admit, there were some men and women in the age range who really looked nowhere like senior citizens. In fact, I noticed many men by the pool who appeared to be in their fifties, but were actually in their sixties and seventies. One gentleman was in such good physical shape, for example, that he appeared to be in his early fifties when in fact, he was almost seventy-nine years old. ...

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