Sometimes Doing Less Is More

I grew up in a small town in New Jersey back when close community was the norm and when people became old, they were still very much a part of that community in their own ways. “Old Mr. Barton” was the kindly man with a cane. He’d walk to town slowly two or three times a week, occasionally patting us on the head in passing. “Old Mrs. Wheaton” was the woman down the block who yelled at us when we ran across her lawn, but still invited us in for hot chocolate when we came back from sledding. Both Mr. Barton and Mrs.