Despite it all, I planned my 70th birthday party with the kind of hope only a fool could summon. I thought maybe, just maybe, this would be the night I’d feel like more than a checkbook with a heartbeat. The house I rented for the occasion sat on the edge of Lake Marin, all glass windows and wraparound porches. I spared no expense: caterers, a live jazz trio, even a photo booth with silly hats. I told the planner to make it feel like a wedding because, in a way, I was renewing my vows to this family, even if they didn’t know it.