Last month, I finally did the inevitable. I went to an optometrist—rather my wife took me to one—to get my eyes checked. I’d been squinting for a while but refusing to acknowledge the obvious. I wasn’t happy , of course. Up until that day, I’d been resisting the visit because I wanted to go without glasses till I turned sixty, which was only seven months away, and boast about it. Now, I was left with a humbling: “I was almost sixty when I got my first glasses.” I suppose I co