Over Christmas, my mom pointed out to me that my dad was about to turn 75 in January. Yes, I know exactly the day of the month of January that he was born (as a woman, I know every family member's birthdates), but I had not stopped to think... 75. 75 is old. 75 is pretty much past the threshold of "oh, you were mean to me when I was young, you weren't a nice father." At 75, you're not even a father any more, you're a survivor of the world, of which your kids, if you had them, were only a very, very small window.