Gstaad—A slight bump at 30,000 feet concentrates the mind, as the good Dr. Johnson said about an appointment with the gallows. Halfway over the Atlantic and lost in a fantasy, I came back in a hurry as the plane shook and trembled, yet my first thought was to show off, pretend I hadn’t noticed, exhibit a kind of brazen indifference while my co-passengers nervously tightened their seatbelts. It was only a bump, the nose dipped and then pulled up rather violently, but it lasted less than half a minute, hence my bravado. (I suspect the automatic pilot was the culprit.) … Continue reading The Strangeness of Age