Her pores and skin was fragile and papery, lined with traces of a century’s truly worth of worries and laughs. Distinctive treatment experienced been taken with her white hair that day, and she donned her pearls for our assembly. She seemed attractive. Not beautiful like the youthful woman in the black-and-white photo outdoors her doorway, the one where by she’s grasping a toddler’s hand, her hair completely coiffed.  Stunning in a further way, like a cherished piece of ornate wooden home furnishings that you appear at and say, “They don’t make them like that any longer.” When I spoke with this woman, her granddaughter, a Gen X’er, served as an…