
My dad just turned 70 and he’s one of the most contented men I’ve ever met — and watching him into my own middle age, I’ve started to understand that what makes him peaceful isn’t the life he built, it’s the quiet inventory of people he stopped trying to impress, opinions he stopped trying to win, and certainties he stopped needing to defend
My father turned seventy last month, and I have written about him before, in another article, where I tried to describe how much of his late-life contentment seems to come from the long list of things he stopped needing somewhere in his fifties.













