Why My 85-Year-Old Friend Has Devoted the Last Years of Her Life to Reading the Ancient Classics
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Joan is eighty-five years old, and I fell a little in love with her on Thanksgiving.
She was sitting on our couch reading a copy of The Aeneid that she had plucked from the bookshelves that line our family room. Around us, Thanksgiving did what Thanksgiving does: football on television, laughter colliding with panic from the kitchen, young children screamlaughcrying in the next room. And there was Joan, in the middle of all of it, considering Virgil’s pages, turning them gently the way you handl
She was sitting on our couch reading a copy of The Aeneid that she had plucked from the bookshelves that line our family room. Around us, Thanksgiving did what Thanksgiving does: football on television, laughter colliding with panic from the kitchen, young children screamlaughcrying in the next room. And there was Joan, in the middle of all of it, considering Virgil’s pages, turning them gently the way you handl
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