EARLIER THIS YEAR, I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea. I’d signed up for the August 2025 Ironman Ottawa to celebrate my 70th birthday and thought, “Why not jump on the Ozempic bandwagon for six months to drop some significant excess weight before the heavy training starts?”
I’ve struggled with my weight for years. My doctor calls me an emotional eater. I thought, if I dropped the weight and committed to keeping it off,

ONE DAY, AS I WAS walking through the mathematics building at the community college I attended, I saw a poster that screamed, “Math Majors?”
That got my attention. The poster introduced me to a career possibility: becoming an actuary. My job path was set. Or so I thought.
The actuarial career path consists of passing either five or 10 standardized tests. Complete five, and you become an associate. Complete 10, and you’re a fellow.

AFTER WATCHING MY wife bake a loaf of wheat bread, I thought I’d try making my mother’s cornbread. Luckily, I kept her recipe, along with those for some of her other delicious dishes.
My mother’s recipes can bring back cherished memories—like the time I visited my parents when they still had their dog. Brandy would always greet me when I walked in the front door. She’d jump up and down knowing I would give her a treat.

IT’S THAT TIME OF year when people think about giving. For my wife, this is what she lives for. She loves buying presents. She’s a very giving person and puts a great deal of thought into the gifts she buys.
She’ll buy gifts all year round, even when the event—such as Christmas—is months away. Problem is, she frequently forgets where she’s stored the presents she’s bought. They’ll eventually be found, but in many cases long past the date when she wanted to give them.

IN JANUARY, I surrendered to passionate irrationality, buying a park unit in Arizona that has become my second home.
Now I understand why, at least in the movie cliché, a man might buy house slippers for his long-suffering wife’s birthday, while giving flashy, expensive baubles to his girlfriend for no reason at all.
My single-wide “girlfriend” is tiny and fragile, the bloom off her youth. Things that improve her are easily obtained. A phone call to a friendly fellow at a store,

IN THE EARLY 1980s, I was a bachelor in Brooklyn. Unskilled at cooking, I didn’t eat at home unless my food came out of a cereal box or snack bag. For regular meals, I depended on a small neighborhood diner.
It was open for breakfast, lunch and dinner seven days a week. On weekends, it was my main source of food. Like so many diners I’ve visited since, it offered complete meals—soup, main course and dessert—for one price.

FATHERHOOD WASN’T one of my life goals. I didn’t feel like I had a wonderful childhood, so I didn’t think I had much to offer my offspring that would help them to lead a wonderful life. If children happened, okay, but it was never a goal.
My first marriage ended because I placed money over fatherhood. I thought not having kids would speed my path to wealth. My wife disagreed—and walked out.
When I met my current wife,

MEDICARE GETS A LOT of criticism these days. Some view it as socialized medicine. Others fret over the hospital trust fund, which covers Medicare Part A and is expected to run out of money by 2036.
Meanwhile, some policymakers want to cut back on traditional Medicare and promote privatization through Medicare Advantage plans, otherwise known as Part C. That reflects the philosophy that health care costs, access and quality will be improved if we obtain health care as we do other goods,

MY WIFE AND I purchased a 1942 bungalow when we got married in 2013. It met many of our criteria: price, location, spacious backyard, access to greenways and more. But the place also had drawbacks—including the one described below. 
The entryway to the house included a climb up seven steps to a stoop. The stoop was small, large enough for only one person to stand while opening the storm door. The only protection from the weather was an old canvas awning.

I TURN AGE 62 IN January—which means I could claim Social Security retirement benefits and perhaps collect at least a few monthly checks before I succumb to cancer.
But is that the smartest strategy? One of my top priorities is ensuring Elaine is financially comfortable after I’m gone, so I want to make sure she gets as much from Social Security as possible.
We got married in late May, a few days after I was told I had lung cancer that had metastasized to my brain and elsewhere.

IT WAS 1982 OR thereabouts. After attempting to be a landlord for several years, I decided it wasn’t for me. I sold the house and the four-family apartment building I’d been managing.
The final task in closing out this adventure would come at tax time. Keeping the books was the one aspect of being a landlord that I didn’t mind. I understood how accumulated appreciation would be recaptured and how capital gains tax would affect that year’s taxes.

WHEN I WAS A YOUNG adult, my parents sat me down and explained that I might at some point inherit money from my grandfather’s trust, which had also helped put me through college. My grandfather passed away in 1984, and his wife—my father’s stepmother—became the trust’s beneficiary.
My father was an only child. The trust stipulated that, if his stepmother died before him, he would receive two-thirds of the trust, while my two siblings and I would share the other third.

I LOVE TO TRAVEL—and it runs in the family. My parents were avid travelers, with my father receiving a generous travel allowance from his work every four years.
In addition, my father always managed his time and budget for numerous other trips. After his passing, my brother and I took turns maintaining the travel tradition with our mom, until plans were disrupted by the pandemic.
After retiring this year, I eagerly anticipated visiting my mother in India and taking her on a grand tour.

YEARS AGO, I SAW a Looney Tunes cartoon starring Daffy Duck and Elmer Fudd. As always, good old Elmer was trying to kill a duck for dinner, only to be outsmarted by the much cleverer Daffy.
In this particular episode, Daffy is playing a game of catch with his duck friends outside Elmer’s house. An overthrown ball crashes through a window. Elmer comes out and says, “Who broke that glass? Someone is going to pay for that.” The ducks all bump into each other in their efforts to run away.

I’VE TAUGHT BEHAVIORAL economics, which holds that even our most important decisions are influenced by unrecognized biases. For my students, there’s no better example than the choice of where they went to college.
Although the cost is enormous, the decision of where to go hinges on the smallest things. A teenager who says, “I want to be close to my boyfriend,” will zero in on a nearby college, even if her high school romance is fading.