My friend and cousin, Fran, when a teenager like myself, told me about a time she was talking to her mother, my Aunt Babe, and the subject of my father came up. I don’t know the exact gist of the conversation, but it  touched on physical attraction and the earthy side of things.   

“But, Mom,” Fran said to her, telling me about this with a wrinkled nose, “he’s an old man.”

“Yes,” Babe answered, “but he was a young man once, when I was young myself, and I remember him that way.”