Once upon a time, when Rev. Lone Jensen Broussard was less than 65, she had imagined aging as an adventure, a slow process where she would gradually and gracefully grow wise and content. She would say "saging" not aging, and loved to recite the popular poem on aging by Jenny Joseph-replete with red hats and purple outfits. Like Lone, I was also proud of stating my age, even proud of my wrinkles; I felt I'd earned every single one of them. My images...