Lecko mio
Patrick Pierazzoli, Editor-in-Chief
“Old age is no place for sissies”, warned Bette Davis. Philip Roth described old age as a massacre, and Francois de La Rochefoucauld dramatically compared it to a tyrant who punishes the joys of youth with death. Old age has a bad reputation. Wrongly, in my opinion, especially when you consider the alternative. Anyway, for me, being old always means being about 15 years older than I am right now. That’s where Helge Timmerberg is now standing, and he has questions. Is the virtue of declining testosterone levels the natural end of all vices? Or does the fun somehow continue afterwards – in life, in traveling, in smoking? Is the life experience of a septuagenarian wisdom or just the sum of all mistakes? Does he want respect or pity, honor or shitstorm, beer or marijuana? How many wrecks are rotting on the beach of stranded dreams, how much does a retirement home in Thailand cost, and what about stomachs, legs and buttocks? Questions of fate also arise when the only dentist you trust is suddenly ordained in heaven. Will hell then open up on earth? Helge Timmerberg is celebrating his birthday and giving himself and all of us a wonderful book on the last act of our play, The Crown of Life. Helge Timmerberg, “Lecko mio”, Piper, ca. 32.-
