Smoking in the girls’ room, sneaking a drink, napping
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One of the great unheralded joys of late middle age is the mind-popping sensation of how many things I’ve been wrong about, starting with sex, my parents, and the meaning of the word bruschetta, then gliding on seamlessly to men, marriage, and magic mushrooms. All my firmly held opinions have loosened like teeth in receding gums or pilings that the indifferent sea has pounded into submission for centuries. What a relief to have been wrong about gluten-free pasta and skinny jeans, gender and white privilege! I suspect I’ve been wrong about pretty much everything, including death, which will come for everyone except me.
Alison Luterman
The final lines of Alison Luterman’s poem “Being Wrong” [April 2021] made me laugh out loud: “I suspect I’ve been wrong / about pretty much everything, / including death, / which will come for everyone / except me.” It provided just one more reason why I read every issue cover to cover.
I started reading The Sun in January 2021. Your magazine brought me warmth during a brutal Midwest winter, and I’ve pored over every issue since.
I was especially moved by Alison Luterman’s “Being Wrong” [April 2021]. As someone who feels left out of “youth culture” and is made anxious by the idea of growing old — especially on a planet that seems to be dying — it was refreshing to read such a joyful testament to getting older. Luterman reckons with all the things she’s been wrong about, including mortality, and how she has moved through it all into a state of acceptance. Her poem reminded me that much of life is about coming to terms with the things we’ve done and trying to find joy in the midst of it. She set me free from my worries.