When I was twenty-two, I was befriended by a woman named Doris who was thirty years older than I was. Although Doris was then a fifty-two year old woman, she did not feel it was inappropriate to befriend me. She did not operate with the social belief that she should choose her friends only from people her own age. We became very close friends and remained so until her death at the age of eight-two.

When Doris turned seventy-five, she was already widowed. The week she turned seventy-five, Doris threw two birthday parties for herself, one on a Wednesday night, and one on Saturday. Over thirty different people attended each party. I was the only person invited to both. In all, about seventy of Doris