Hey everyone,
I am building a house near Gettysburg, Pa. On most days, it's a tossup whether I'll finish the house or the house will finish me. I am afraid I will be just as busy in September. But you have my solemn promise that I will make the 50th reunion, unless my fights with contractors escalate to the Jimmy Hoffa stage.

An update on my life so far: I retired in 2007, or rather, I got retired by the Philadelphia Inquirer, which is now operating under bankruptcy court protection. You know you've lived a long time when an industry dies under you.

Happily, or sadly depending on your perspective, my wife works in a growth industry as a preschool special ed teacher specializing in autism. Meg is the genuine talent in the Mason household. Her kids' parents see her as Anne Bancroft in The Miracle Worker. Right away, you know that she is a patient woman. She'll be married to me 40 years in July.

Our offspring are alive and well in Washington, D.C. (hence the appeal of Gettysburg 70 miles to the northwest.) My son, Lowell, is a research economist at the Bureau of Labor Statistics. He tolerates my economist jokes. (Passerby to Alan Greenspan: "How is the Missus?" Greenspan, with a troubled look on his face: "Compared to what?")

My daughter, Katy, is one of the lawyers at the Justice Department charged with keeping our guests at Guantanamo Bay safely ensconced inside the fence. We tell her we love her anyway. She tolerates my lawyer jokes. (Q. How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb? A. Five: two to draft the product liability complaint, one to track billable hours, one to work on the appeal, and a fifth to tell the secretary to find a ladder and change the lightbulb.)

So far, they've been busts in the procreation department, but my complaints on the subject are short lived. Meg tells me I can always volunteer in her classroom.

Not that I don't complain anyway. One of the advantages of growing old is that you know exactly when the world went to hell. I'll bring you up to date in 2014. (It's not too late to uninvite me.)

Todd