This Week’s Best Profile

Multi-Pulitzer Prize winner, Carol Guzy, has a photo essay on the “journey to the shadow of death” of Classie Morant, who died recently at age 104. It’s here. There’s also a short essay:

Like many elderly people feeling a loss of power, Classie would lash out at those closest to her. A tantrum over Tylenol was particularly combative and quite out of character. From her time with Rozzie, she also knew all the tricks. She would hold the pills she didn’t want in the back of her mouth until no one was looking, and they would find their way into a folded napkin destined for the trash.Classie began facing her own mortality. She sent Ann looking for a pink outfit, presumably for her funeral. “She’s giving up,” Ann said, “a little more each day.” Sometimes anxiety would overwhelm her, and she would repeat a phrase for hours. “Oh, Lordy” would reverberate through the house.

Thoughts on old age, in general? It sounds unbearably terrible to me. But I suppose the alternative ain’t any better.


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