Here's my obituary for when the time comes:

Loomis, a veteran print journalist, burned out on his profession in the mid-1990s and returned to grad school in middle age to test the theory that old dogs can't learn new tricks. He didn't disprove it, but he did receive a fellowship and a Ph.D. in journalism and mass communication from an otherwise respectable graduate institution of higher education -- the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.

About the same time, Loomis burned out on a marriage of 10 years that produced no offspring, although he did help raise two stepchildren. He later described the experience as "contributory negligence," although both stepkids turned out respectably.

Loomis, a guitarist, was a lifelong devotee of back-porch string music, often lubricated with modest amounts of alcoholic spirits. He continued to perform well into his 60s with a swing-jazz group he co-formed in Chapel Hill, N.C., during his grad-school stint at the university there. And he performed with a jazz band and roots-music group in the heart of Appalachia in Indiana, Pa., where he held a tenured teaching position in the journalism department at Indiana University of Pennsylvania (IUP), one of the state's largest public universities.

Back to present tense: In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I am closely associated with a scandalously young IUP chemistry professor from Calgary, Alberta. We'll probably get hitched 'fore long, and I'll try my hand again at step-parenting. (She has a 16-year-old son. Good kid.)