I was thinking about age and wisdom today, and the importance of experience. I’m thinking especially about my maternal and paternal grandmothers and my maternal great-grandmothers, both of whom I knew throughout most of my childhood. When I think about about these amazing Black women–all of whom, in addition to their intelligence, also bore the wisdom of having seen and experienced so much change in their lifetimes–I think of the older Black men I know, most of whom I met during a 3-year stint volunteering with a local service agency for seniors. I think of one gentleman in particular, named George. I called him on the phone every Friday morning, and I would always look at his photo while we were speaking. His expression was contemplative and accepting, but not complacent. This was also reflected in the tone of his voice and in the things he said during our short conversations. We rarely spoke more than 15 or 20 minutes, but I think of him to this day. Wherever he is, I wish him well, and I thank him for his example. If he is still living, may he have health, happiness, and family all around. If he has died in the years since we last spoke, then I say rest in peace, George. Rest in peace.