Everyone tells me I look great. For my age, of course. But I am getting longer and longer in the tooth nonetheless. Slowly, ever so slowly, I am getting a new name in Motovun: Barba Bon. Uncle Bon, that is. A sure sign of ripe old age, to be sure. Regardless of my good looks, of which I am still kind of proud, I know exactly where I belong. Slowly, ever so slowly, I am getting used to my new name. I can well imagine the time when I will accept it without a tang of self-pity. “Barba Bon,” I will introduce myself to all newcomers with a happy grin.