So there we were in the car headed to Beverly Hills. My attire, cocktail. My mood, cheery. I glossed my lips, snapped my clutch and turned to my husband.
“So what’s going on? Are fundraising benefits the new “party” for us?”
It had been the second one in a row. The weekend before it was cancer. This one was domestic violence.
“Oh no,” he said, “I sure hope not.”
And then I saw what he saw: our lives as “youthful takers” receding into our past. “Generous donors” becoming the new normal.
What he might’ve said was: We’re officially old people. Continue Reading…